


Return to Serene

by Norathar



Series: After The End (Alexandra de Sardet) [2]
Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 111,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norathar/pseuds/Norathar
Summary: Part 2 of the story begun in After The End, Return to Serene covers Alexandra's return to Serene to confront her uncle, lay the past to rest, and determine her future.
Relationships: Kurt/De Sardet (GreedFall)
Series: After The End (Alexandra de Sardet) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901524
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

Alexandra de Sardet had debated whether or not she wanted to return to Serene, but in the end, it turned out she had no choice. As the cold, rainy season that was winter on Teer Fradee gave way to the warmth of spring, Vasco’s fleet returned.

De Sardet and Kurt greeted him on the docks. “Did you see my uncle?” de Sardet asked.

Vasco nodded. “I was the one who gave him the news. I think he was unhappy that Lady de Morange hadn’t sent an envoy from the Congregation back to Serene, but he concealed his disappointment well.”

“He couldn’t be too unhappy, surely,” de Sardet said. “The Nauts sent a fleet commander to speak with him.”

“A fleet commander who had left Serene a mere captain,” Vasco pointed out. “He did question me at length, especially when I mentioned that I had spent a great deal of time with you. He wanted to know everything about what had happened to Constantin, of course, but he also had a number of questions about you.”

“About me?”

“It seemed to me that he wanted to know if you had realized the truth about your heritage, and how you felt about the revelation,” said Vasco. “I tried not to say too much, of course, but somehow I felt as if he already knew.”

“I’m sure he has his sources in the governor’s palace,” de Sardet replied. “And Sir de Courcillon or Lady de Morange may well have mentioned something in their dispatches.”

“I gave him all the dispatches you sent. He said he would read them all, and that he’d summon me to send a message back before I left port.” Vasco paused. “Well, he did.” He produced a thick envelope, sealed with the silver wax of a prince of the Congregation. “A fortnight later, he said that the fleet could depart whenever we pleased. He told me to give this to you once I made landfall.”

De Sardet broke open the seal, then read the letter. “He’s ordering me back to Serene,” she said. “I am to leave as soon as possible after receiving this letter. Lady de Morange is to serve as acting governor, but is reminded that she is to serve at his pleasure, and that he expects to name her a replacement within a year.”

“Will you go?” Vasco asked.

“Does she have a choice?”

“What will he do if you refuse? Order Lady de Morange to have you clapped in chains and returned by force?”

“Very possibly,” said de Sardet.

“Hikmet or San Matheus would shelter you, if it came to that. So would any of the native tribes. Or the Nauts, for that matter,” Vasco said. “There’s always a cabin on the _Sea Horse_ for you, if you’d like – and he’d never find you on our island.”

“She’s not a criminal,” said Kurt. “It isn’t as if he’s ordering her back to be executed.”

“Then why?” Vasco looked to de Sardet. “You’ve said yourself that you don’t think he ever expected you to return.”

“Officially, he says that there are matters relating to the disposition of my mother’s estate to be attended to. I need to sign certain legal documents, and he believes it would be easier to pass her estate to me if I am present in Serene.” Her grip on the parchment tightened. “Unofficially…he does not say it outright, but he wants to hear how Constantin died. I don’t think he believes the official story. He knows how close we were; he knows I’ll know the truth.” De Sardet closed her eyes, feeling tears pricking at her eyelids. “I would like to see his tomb, and my mother’s.”

“There’s another reason too, Green Blood,” Kurt pointed out. “With Constantin dead, he’s lost his heir, and you’re the most obvious choice.” A dark look clouded his face. “Not that I like that. If you set foot in Serene as the Prince d’Orsay’s heir, you’ll be the target of every assassin in the city.”

“Not every assassin,” de Sardet said. “But I will be the target of every nobleman in the city.” She shook her head. “My uncle knows I am not his niece. He would never name me as his heir. I have no noble blood. I know full well that he has always seen me as a useful tool; for all I know, he sees me as a savage.” She paused. “But that might not stop him from trying to use me to forge an alliance. The rest of the world believes me to be the daughter of the Princess de Sardet, and that would be enough for him. I may still be his tool – to name a new heir from among one of the princes of the Congregation.”

“I won’t do it.” She was pale, but determined. “I will not be used as his pawn again, and I will certainly not marry someone I do not love.”

“Are you going to refuse him?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know how I can. He says that he’s already given Lady de Morange explicit orders to see me placed on the next ship to Serene. He writes that he wishes to hear more about everything that happened during our time on the island, that most of all he wishes to know about Constantin’s death firsthand, from someone who was closest to him…but what can I do?” De Sardet looked to Vasco. “The Nauts would surely not want to jeopardize their relationship with the Congregation over this.”

“The Nauts know you were taken from us,” Vasco replied. “We’d gladly take you back. The Prince d’Orsay nearly ruined relations between our nations when he refused to give you to us.”

“But I’d have to remain in Naut territory, either aboard your ships or on your island,” said de Sardet. “I could never return to Teer Fradee.”

“Unless you joined the natives,” said Kurt. “Dunncas would shelter you. You could return to Vignamri, if you wanted, or to Vedrhais; Siora would take you in, or Slan.”

“Would you go with me?”

“Of course. I won’t leave you, sweet Excellency, I promise you that.”

“So you’d have to give up your position with the Coin Guard.”

“I’d resign. Sieglinde would understand.”

“I couldn’t do that to you.” De Sardet shook her head. “I couldn’t do that to Dunncas, either. My uncle would find out the truth eventually, and when he did, what then? Abductions? Reprisals? Violence?” She sighed. “As much as I love Teer Fradee, I’m neither Naut nor native. And I do not even know what my uncle truly wants.”

“You’ll return with a full honor guard of your own,” Kurt said. “Coin Guards of the Blue-Silver Regiment here, but who are loyal to Sieglinde, not to your uncle. The men and women who fought at Dorhadgenedu won’t betray us.” He looked consumed with worry. “Bringing those _doneigada_ might not be a bad idea, either, especially Siora. You can introduce them to Serene, and they’ll help you, if it comes to that.”

“I don’t expect to have to fight my way out, Kurt.”

“I don’t, either, but we don’t know what we’re walking back into, and I don’t trust the court.” He folded de Sardet into an embrace, holding her tightly. “You’re safer here. We’re happy here. The last thing I want to do is go back, especially if there’s any chance of you getting drawn into Court intrigue.”

“We’ll go, I’ll answer my uncle’s summons, and we’ll return as soon as we can. I don’t see that I have a choice.” She reached up, cupping the side of Kurt’s face with one hand. “I love you, Kurt. Whatever he wants of me, we will come back to Teer Fradee. We will spend the rest of our lives together.” 

Kurt reached up, taking her hand. “Marry me,” he said.

Startled into silence, de Sardet couldn’t respond.

“Alexandra de Sardet, I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know that I’m not worthy of asking – I’m not noble or high-born or—”

“Neither am I,” she said, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. “Oh, Kurt.” She laughed, even as she thought she would cry from happiness. “Yes.”

He looked at her, astonished. “Yes? You – you’ll marry me?”

“Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. I’m an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.” She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I told you that I cannot imagine life without you; whatever happens, I want us to be together. I love you, and I’ll marry you, and I don’t care what my uncle or anyone in Serene thinks. We’ll wed before we land, and there won’t be anything he can do about it.”

“Except kill Kurt,” Vasco pointed out. De Sardet startled; she’d been so caught up in the emotion of the proposal that she’d forgotten he was watching. “He might make you a widow, if he wants to marry you to someone else badly enough.”

“Kurt is a hero. He’s Commander Sieglinde’s second-in-command on this island, and if anything happened to him in Serene, it would ruin relations with the Coin Guard,” de Sardet said. “The Congregation isn’t like Theleme or the Bridge Alliance; those countries use the Guard to augment their own forces, but primarily use them as bodyguards and city guardsmen. The Congregation has never had a standing army; the Coin Guard is its sole means of defense.”

“Would they really break a contract over one Coin Guard?”

“Over the Hero of Dorhadgenedu, the man who is single-handedly responsible for saving the Guard’s honor and keeping its reputation intact with the three countries who serve as its largest employers? I think so,” said de Sardet. “If not for Kurt, New Serene would have fallen to the Coin Guard, and I would be dead.”

“I don’t think your uncle has much of a sense of obligation,” said Kurt.

“Does that mean you won’t marry me? It would be safer for you if you stayed here, I know, but—”

“How can you even ask? I would never leave you. I’m not going to hide like some coward while you go off to that hornet’s nest alone. What sort of man would I be if I did?” Kurt wrapped his arms around her. “And I will marry you. I don’t know how you can doubt that. If you’ll have me—”

De Sardet responded by kissing him again. “I will. Now and always. My hero.”

“My sweet Excellency.” Kurt paused. “We won’t have much time, and finding a priest might be a problem.”

“If only Bishop Petrus was here,” de Sardet said. She’d had a letter from him a month ago, informing her that he’d been granted his longstanding desire for a cardinal’s hat; he’d left for Theleme a month ago, preparing for his investiture. “He could have performed the ceremony. I’ll have to draw up a contract as well, and we’ll have to find witnesses.” All noble marriages in the Congregation were valid only with a marriage contract that was properly drawn up and signed by the bride, the groom, and at least two witnesses. “At least I’m past twenty-five; otherwise, I’d have needed my uncle’s permission.”

“Still, finding a priest to do it may be a problem,” said Kurt.

Vasco grinned. “It won’t,” he said. “Not as long as you get married on my ship.” He didn’t keep them in suspense. “Any Naut captain aboard his own ship can perform a marriage ceremony – and, by our treaties with the Congregation, any marriage performed by a Naut captain is recognized as valid.”

“We’ll need witnesses,” de Sardet said. “Preferably citizens of the Congregation.”

“So invite Lady de Morange and Sir de Courcillon to see you off,” he said. “If you want, my whole crew can watch. We’ll make it a celebration.”

“Thank you, Vasco,” said de Sardet, and gave him a hug. Vasco was startled by the sudden display of affection, but returned it.

“Thank you,” Kurt told him, nodding, and the two men embraced.

Before they could say anything more, there came a knock at the door. A moment later, one of the de Sardet household servants entered the room, declaring, “Lady Laurine de Morange.”

Lady de Morange saw the letter with the Prince’s seal unfolded on the table before her, then looked to de Sardet, Kurt, and Vasco. “You’ve heard the news, I presume?”

De Sardet nodded.

“I fully expect he’ll declare you governor,” said Lady de Morange. “Why he felt the need to do that in Serene, I don’t know, but…” Her voice trailed off as the servant left the room, closing the door behind her; she took another moment, glancing over her shoulder, before continuing. “I’m sure he wants to know more about Constantin’s death. I am loath to send you back if you don’t wish to go, but he is very clear that he wants you on the first ship leaving New Serene.”

“That will be mine,” said Vasco. “My fleet will take Legate de Sardet back to Serene.”

“Are you sure? You’ve just made port.”

“Absolutely,” Vasco replied. “We’ll need some time to make repairs, but I’ll take the legate home.”

“I’ll bring the _doneigada_ with me,” said de Sardet. “If I’m going, I might as well take the opportunity to introduce them. It may take a week or two to assemble them here.”

“That much time I can give you,” de Morange replied. “A week or two, you could always attribute to bad weather or calm seas.” She paused. “As for Constantin, I will maintain the official line we established in our dispatches. Sir de Courcillon may well choose to accompany you home; he has been talking of returning. I will miss you both, but trust that you will return as soon as you can.”

“I will,” de Sardet promised.


	2. Chapter 2

The next two weeks were spent in a whirlwind of packing, letter-writing, and worry. Siora arrived with a dozen _doneigada_ ; much to de Sardet’s surprise, her aunt was among them.

“I would not let my niece return to the _renaigse_ alone,” Slan said. “You were taken from us once; I will not let you be taken from us again, for Arelwin’s sake.” Her eyes were grave. “Siora has told us that you may be in danger, but we will keep you safe. Should these _renaigse_ harm you, they will never have a cure for their malichor.”

Aphra came with them. “How could I stay? I’ll have plenty of time to write my book when we get back.”

All the time, de Sardet veered between anticipation and fear. Part of her did want to return to Serene: the city had been her home, and she did have some fond memories of it. More than that, she did want to say goodbye to her mother, see where Constantin was buried, and perhaps even demand answers from her uncle.

At the same time, she was filled with worry, wondering why her uncle had really called her back, afraid that he might expect her to remain in Serene, terrified that he might harm Kurt if he discovered how much she cared for him.

The night before they were due to depart, she lay awake, unable to sleep; her restlessness woke Kurt, who immediately reached for her. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to marry me?” she asked him for what felt like the hundredth time. “If it puts you in danger—”

“We’re all in danger in Serene,” he pointed out. “You’re safer fighting off a herd of _lewolig_ than you are in that den of vipers.”

“But if my uncle thought you were only my guard—”

“By now, I’m sure he knows,” Kurt said. “We haven’t exactly been discreet. When was the last time I used my room? At least one of your servants is probably in his pay, or at least isn’t averse to being paid in exchange for sending the occasional tidbit back to Serene.”

“Dozens of noblewomen have lovers,” de Sardet said. “We could pretend—”

“Until he tries to marry you off to some noble.” Kurt caressed her _on ol menawi_ mark. “We can pretend until we can’t. Then we’ll have to tell the truth.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I can take care of myself, Green Blood.”

“I don’t want you to have to. I don’t want to have to worry about this at all.” She ran her hand through Kurt’s hair; she’d always loved the feeling where the close-shaved bristles near his ears gave way to the longer hair atop his head. “I want to stay here, with you.”

She could feel his hesitation. “Would you marry me if we weren’t leaving for Serene?”

“Yes.” De Sardet paused. “If we weren’t, would you have asked?”

“I wanted to. I was afraid,” he confessed. “I didn’t know if I was presuming too much, or if that was what you would want…” De Sardet rested her head against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “Sometimes, it’s felt as it it’s too good to last. I’ve never been so happy.”

“And you didn’t stop to think I might feel the same way?” She turned her head, planting a light kiss on his chest. “I want a life with you, Kurt. _This_ life, together. For the first time in my life, I’ve found home. I won’t let that go so easily.”

“If you hadn’t asked me, I would have asked you. I don’t know how long I would have waited, but I would have.” She traced a line of kisses up his throat, along the line of his jaw, until she found his lips. After that, they didn’t speak.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, de Sardet awoke to find Kurt had dressed in a version of the Coin Guard’s regimental she hadn’t seen him in since they’d been in Serene: his dress uniform, worn for palace functions where he was expected to look presentable amongst lords and ladies of the Congregation.

“It still fits,” he said with a smile.

De Sardet had a surprise of her own: she dressed all in white and gold, a doublet of silk and velvet with golden embroidery. She wore her hair down, and in place of a hat, she pinned her hair back with pearls.

“My sweet Excellency,” Kurt said when he saw her, staring.

In Theleme, it was bad luck for the couple to see each other before the ceremony, but in the Congregation, there was no such custom: in fact, the marriage contract was traditionally reviewed at a breakfast with the bride, groom, and their respective families. De Sardet had prepared the contract in triplicate: a copy to be given to her uncle, a copy to be kept at the governor’s palace in New Serene, and a copy that she hoped to entrust to someone on New Serene for safekeeping. She knew that it verged on paranoia, but she also knew that paranoia was sometimes prudent at the court of the Prince d’Orsay.

They lingered over breakfast, not wanting to leave; they walked through the streets of New Serene slowly, taking in the sights as they went. The sky was a clear blue, promising a beautiful day, with a light breeze that de Sardet knew Vasco would appreciate.

He was on the docks when they arrived, loading the last bits of cargo, but he stopped when he saw them. To her surprise, Commander Sieglinde and Quartermaster Manfred were both there; when she saw them, Kurt said, “If de Morange and de Courcillon don’t want to risk their necks for us, Sieglinde and Manfred will be our witnesses.” He hesitated. “You don’t mind?”

“Why should I? You should have friends here, too. I only wish all our friends could be here.”

“I’m sure Bishop Petrus will be upset,” said Kurt.

“He would have wanted to perform the ceremony himself,” de Sardet agreed, but she was thinking of someone else. _I wish Constantin was here._ She wanted to imagine him excited and happy, getting drunk and celebrating, crowing over how angry his father would be when he learned of the marriage. _He would have teased me, made empty threats to Kurt about what he’d do if he didn’t make me happy, and probably made a ribald joke or two before he realized he’d gone too far._

Kurt reached out, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I know, Green Blood,” he said, and she saw that he knew her thoughts had drifted to Constantin. “Old wounds.”

She squeezed his hand back, and realized as she did so that Lady de Morange and Sir de Courcillon had both arrived before them; de Sardet saw them both stare at her as they looked at her standing hand-in-hand with Kurt, with her white doublet, trousers, and cravat, loose hair, and Kurt’s dress uniform. 

“Lady de Morange, Sir de Courcillon, come aboard for a few moments, please,” said Vasco. “I’m sure you’ll want to see Legate de Sardet off.”

Aphra and Siora were already aboard. “I am happy for you both,” Siora said, then paused, testing out an unfamiliar word. “Congratulations.”

“It’s a little premature,” Aphra told her, even as de Courcillon’s brow furrowed.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but—”

“You know that Constantin was my uncle’s only heir,” de Sardet told him. “I fear that I’m being recalled to Serene because he wishes to make a marriage to secure himself a new heir.” She reached for Kurt’s hand. “I will not be sold into an arranged marriage on false pretenses. I am not the niece of the Prince d’Orsay, I am Alexandra de Sardet, adopted daughter of Jeanne de Sardet, but I was born Aine, daughter of Arelwin and Declan of the bone blowers’ clan, an _on ol menawi_ of the village of Vignamri. I was taken once from my mother and again from the Nauts, and I will not pretend that I am someone I am not to satisfy my uncle’s desire for an heir.”

“Kurt and I love one another. We are going to marry, here and now. I would like you to serve as my witnesses.” She nodded to Sieglinde and Manfred. “If you’re afraid of risking my uncle’s wrath, I’ll understand; we’ve made other arrangements if that’s the case.”

Lady de Morange was the first to respond. “I would be honored to serve as one of your witnesses, Lady de Sardet,” she said. She smiled. “I thought this day might come. I am happy for you both.”

De Courcillon looked genuinely shocked, and de Sardet had to wonder if he had been entirely blind to their relationship. “I…ah…your uncle…”

“My uncle may well be furious,” de Sardet said. “But you know he isn’t truly my uncle.”

Lady de Morange placed a hand on de Courcillon’s arm. “This will happen whether or not you bear witness,” she said. “The Prince d’Orsay may well be angered with you for letting it happen, but you can tell him that it isn’t as if you could have prevented it. The decision, however, is yours.”

“You have always been my cherished pupil,” de Courcillon told her. “If this is your decision…” He glanced to Sieglinde and Manfred. “I suppose it isn’t as if it will make any difference.”

“You are a noble of the Congregation,” said de Sardet. “That will mean something.”

“Come, now,” Vasco said. “We have to be off with the tide. Are you willing?”

De Courcillon nodded.

“Let me take that,” said Vasco, taking the copies of the contract from de Sardet’s hands. “I’ll put them in my cabin. You can sign them after the ceremony.” As he disappeared below decks, de Courcillon moved to stand with de Morange and the others.

“Attention, crew!” Vasco shouted. “Leave off, gather around, all of you. Lively, now!”

They assembled surprisingly quickly; de Sardet had to wonder if Vasco had planned it in advance, especially when she saw several of the crew grinning. The contingent of Coin Guard who were returning with them and the natives who were joining them had all gathered as well, standing in their own groups, and de Sardet realized that the ceremony wouldn’t be the hushed, rushed affair she’d imagined.

“Lady de Sardet,” called out Jonas, the cabin boy she’d saved from his own parents in Serene. “For you.” He thrust a bouquet of wildflowers into her hands, tied with a white silk ribbon.

“He broke into one of the cargo crates for that ribbon,” Portia admitted. “Didn't tell the captain, though I don't think he would have minded. We said it was lost in a storm. The flowers, we got from the shore to the west of here.”

De Sardet was touched, but barely had time to thank them before Vasco had started in on his ceremony. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of two souls, who have come together to embark on a voyage through the ocean of life.”

The Naut ceremony was far different from any de Sardet was accustomed to: the Congregation’s marriage rites were dull, a litany of prayers, vows for a bride to serve and obey, for a husband to protect and guide.

The Nauts’ ceremony had no such language. It compared marriage to a sea voyage, of two souls coming together to captain their ship through life, avoiding rocks and shoals, caring for each other, and enjoying the times of fair weather even as they helped each other endure stormy seas. The language was poetic, and de Sardet found herself appreciating Vasco’s flair for words as he conducted the ceremony.

To her surprise, the crux of the ceremony was the same: Kurt produced a pair of rings, beautifully wrought golden bands that she recognized as the work of New Serene’s blacksmith. “Kurt, do you take Alexandra to be your wife, in sickness and health, in good times and bad, for better or worse, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Kurt said, and slipped it on her finger. She was astonished to find that it fit perfectly, before remembering the number of magic rings that Kurt had seen her wear: after so long together, there had been no need for him to guess at her ring size.

“Alexandra, do you take Kurt to be your husband, in sickness and health, in good times and bad, for better or worse, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Kurt slipped her the ring, and she slid it back onto his hand, never looking away from his face.

“Then, by the power granted me as the captain of this ship, I pronounce you husband and wife. May you always have fair seas and sunny weather to carry you to the farthest shore.” Vasco smiled widely. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Kurt didn’t have to be told twice: he leaned forward and kissed her, and a cheer went up from the Naut crew, loudly enough to startle them both.

“A Naut custom,” Vasco said, and de Sardet leaned forward and kissed Kurt again to another round of cheers.

“We’ll save the rum for when we get out of port!” he shouted. “Back to work, lads and lasses, we’ll show them a Naut celebration when we’re on the high seas!”

The crew went back to work, and de Sardet turned to her companions. “Now you can say it,” Aphra told Siora.

“Congratulations, my _caranten_ ,” said Siora. “Kurt, Alexandra, I am happy for you both.” She wrinkled her nose. “It is very different from our ceremony for _minundhanem_.”

“But no less beautiful,” Slan spoke up. “I am happy for you, niece. Arelwin would be pleased.”

“Would she?” Aphra asked, with her characteristic bluntness. “With her daughter marrying a _renaigse_?” 

“With her daughter marrying a good man,” said Siora, before Slan could answer.

“That is all any mother could ask for,” Slan agreed. She tilted her head. “You remind me of them,” she said. “Arelwin and Declan. I am glad this journey will take so long; I have much to tell you about them both.”

De Sardet moved to Lady de Morange and Sir de Courcillon. “Before you leave,” she said, gesturing to the stairs that led to Vasco’s cabin.

“I take it we’re not needed, then,” Sieglinde said.

“Not unless you’d like to,” said Kurt, “but I don’t see the harm in having more witnesses than necessary.”

“Unless you think it puts a target on our backs. The Prince d’Orsay may be none too happy with you.”

“I know he won’t,” said Kurt. “It’s worth it.”

Sieglinde smiled. “I think so too. It’s good to see you so happy, Kurt. I have to admit, when I gave you permission to wed, I didn't think you'd do it so quickly.”

"Permission?" de Sardet asked.

"All Coin Guard require permission from their commanding officer before they're allowed to wed," Sieglinde said. "Kurt hadn't asked, but I knew he'd be wanting it, so I wrote up the papers and presented them to him with his promotion." She gave him a look. "Kurt, you didn't tell her?" 

Kurt looked down, embarrassed. "I didn't know if she'd want to." 

Sieglinde laughed. "I think you have your answer. Congratulations to the both of you." 

All of them went down to sign, and in the end half a dozen people ended up affixing their signatures: the two members of the Coin Guard, Vasco and his first mate, Sir de Courcillon, and Lady de Morange. “No one will be able to argue it wasn’t done properly,” said de Sardet as Vasco added his name with a flourish.

“Properly distinguished witnesses, at that: the commander of the Coin Guard, a fleet commander of the Nauts, the governor of New Serene, and a nobleman of the Congregation,” said Kurt. He elbowed Manfred in a friendly manner. “And other distinguished fellows.”

“I know I’m no one,” Manfred replied. “But are you Lord Kurt now?”

Vasco burst out laughing. “He has you there,” he said. “Sir Kurt de Sardet.”

“You’re one to talk, Leandre,” Kurt shot back.

“I’m no noble. But if de Sardet has inherited her mother’s title, does that make you the Prince and Princess de Sardet?”

“It does,” said Lady de Morange. “By custom, a married couple in the Congregation takes whichever of their titles is higher.”

“Does that mean we should be calling you ‘Your Highness?’” Vasco asked. “Either of you?”

“Please don’t,” said de Sardet.

“Congratulations,” Lady de Morange said. Her eyes sparkled as she added, “I’ll take my leave, Your Highnesses.”

The next hour was a rush of goodbyes: de Morange, Sieglinde, and Manfred debarked, Vasco took his crew through the final preparations before leaving, and before they knew it, de Sardet and Kurt stood together above decks, watching Teer Fradee recede into the distance.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Kurt promised her.


	4. Chapter 4

The voyage itself passed more quickly than de Sardet could have imagined. Their first night aboard ship was everything Vasco had promised: a trio of Nauts broke out a set of pipes, a guitar, and drums to produce music for the evening, while the rest of the crew showed them several traditional dances, group affairs that involved a great deal of spinning, lifts, and high kicks that would have scandalized a Serene ballroom. De Sardet and Kurt joined in, spinning around until de Sardet nearly collapsed; Kurt caught her, but she pulled him down, and the dance ended in a burst of laughter.

Rum and wine both flowed freely that night, and even into the next day, when the members of the Coin Guard insisted on holding their own celebration: de Sardet was touched by their salute, with half a dozen men lining up with sabers on each side.

“When two members of the Guard get married, they pass underneath the swords as they leave the ceremony,” said Kurt. They did, though she had to admit to being slightly nervous when the ship rocked from side to side as they ducked beneath the raised blades.

After that, of course, the natives had to show them their own rites: Slan wrapped a cloth around their wrists, performing a symbolic binding, while murmuring a prayer to the god of a thousand faces. “May the grass be ever soft beneath your feet; may the trees always bear fruit for you; may the moon watch over your dreams. May you always find comfort in one another, _minundhanem_.” 

“That was beautiful,” de Sardet said. “Thank you.”

“I still remember the day your mother married your father. The entire village came. They had loved each other since they were little more than children. She loved him for his strength, his courage, his kindness; he loved her for her boldness, her curiosity, her determination.”

De Sardet looked at Kurt, feeling as if she could have said the same, and Slan smiled. “I am glad for you.”

The voyage brought with it plenty of time to speak with Slan, who was eager to tell her about her mother and father, and about her village and clan. “I am glad Ullan did not come with us now,” she admitted. “It may be that Dunncas will send him later, but he is not fit to be our first envoy to the _renaigse_ , just as he was not fit to be _mal_.”

“Why did Dunncas change his mind?” Dunncas had chosen to send Eamon in his stead, a _doneigad_ from his own village.

“For one, he wanted only _doneigada_ in this delegation. He wanted to show that we would send healers, those who would prove their worth with deeds, and not Ullan with his empty words. For another…I believe Eamon begged him to go. He wanted very much to see the land of the _renaigse_ , and to have the chance to heal it.” A smile tugged at Slan’s face. “And I believe he is very much taken with the _mal_ of the red spears.”

“Siora?”

“He knew that Dunncas would appoint her one of the leaders of our group. They have been working closely together since Dunncas first began to speak of this, and I have seen how he admires her.”

“Does Siora know?”

“I do not think so. It is not something I would say; if he means it to be a secret, it is not mine to tell, not to the one he loves.”

But de Sardet took the opportunity to watch her friend, and she soon saw that Eamon did seem to like Siora, and she him.

“Is that common?” de Sardet asked Slan. “A marriage between the _mal_ of one clan and the _doneigad_ of another?”

“No,” Slan admitted. “But this is a time of new beginnings. None have ever willingly traveled across the sea to help _renaigse_ ; most would not agree to leave our home, our land, even to heal another. But Dunncas is a healer, even before he is a king, and our debt to you too great.”

De Sardet and Kurt also spent much of their time in their own cabin: Vasco immediately began teasing them that the Prince and Princess de Sardet deserved the largest cabin on the ship.

“Does that mean we get yours?” Kurt retorted.

“I’m afraid not. But you’ll have the finest passenger cabin I can offer.”

“Why not the second-finest?” de Sardet suggested. “I’d rather take the cabin I had on the passage here.”

Both Kurt and Vasco knew why: the finest passenger cabin had belonged to Constantin. Kurt made a joke of it: “Given how many sailors he likely had in that bed, I wouldn’t want to sleep there, either.” Given the look Vasco had shot him, de Sardet had momentarily wondered if he might have been one of them: Constantin had been quite taken with the handsome Naut captain, and Vasco was the sort to appreciate beauty in men and women alike. 

She let Sir de Courcillon take the cabin that had been Constantin’s; as on the journey to Teer Fradee, de Courcillon spent most of his time terribly seasick, and was almost pathetically thankful to de Sardet and Kurt for allowing him to have a private cabin. De Sardet accepted his thanks and avoided the cabin entirely: she couldn’t look at it without remembering seeing Constantin’s things strewn about, Constantin himself lounging in his bed, complaining that it wasn’t quite what he was accustomed to from Serene in one breath, but in the second perking up as he spoke of the adventure of sailing across the sea.

De Sardet was content with the more familiar cabin. In truth, it was very nearly the same size as the one that had belonged to Constantin, and which Vasco claimed was the more luxurious of the two. “I think he only said it to placate Constantin,” she confided to Kurt. “When we first came aboard, he said something about wanting the most luxurious cabin on the ship, and Vasco didn’t know him well enough to see that he wasn’t serious. I told Constantin that I thought they were just alike, but he made jokes to me about having the better cabin all the way here.” 

“I inspected both cabins before you boarded,” Kurt agreed. “They’re identical, or near enough as makes no difference. In fact, I think this one’s a bit steadier; in the other, you feel the pitch of the ship more often.”

They spent quite a bit of time inspecting their cabin, or more specifically, the bed. De Sardet was well aware that the Naut crew and the Coin Guard contingent alike made their fair share of bawdy jokes when they thought that neither Kurt nor de Sardet were around, but Aphra heard enough of them to find it amusing, especially when she discovered that she could embarrass Kurt by repeating them.

It was a pleasant four months: Vasco, Kurt, Aphra, Siora, and de Sardet ate dinner often enough in Vasco’s cabin, and at other times, they would join the crew to share stories and listen to tales of the _Sea Horse_ ’s exploits.

“I don’t know what you did to our captain,” said Lauro, one of the _Sea Horse'_ s crew, “but he laughs more than he ever did before he went ashore.” The sailor was in his cups, and slurring heavily. “You’d think taking a man’s ship from him would make him sour, but his time on land made him a better captain than he was before.”

Some of the sailors looked nervously at Vasco, as if he might take offense, but Vasco only took a sip from his tankard. “Sometimes, it takes some time on land to make you appreciate the sea. I hope I’ll never spend so long ashore again.” He raised his tankard. “To a short stay in Serene, and a swift current to Teer Fradee!”

He made that toast two nights before they put into Serene Harbor. It was an overcast day, and de Sardet watched the city appear through the fog with feelings of trepidation.

“This isn’t home,” she murmured as Kurt came to stand beside her at the bow of the ship.

“We’ll go home soon enough.”

“I hope so.”

“So do I.” Kurt put his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “I don’t know when we’ll be able to do this again.”

“Or other things,” she murmured. Knowing that it was their last night together, they had barely slept, making love until they were both exhausted, then having one last time together after they’d awakened that morning.

“We’ll be within sight of the docks soon,” Vasco warned them. “If you want to stay below decks, you can do that, but you might not want to risk it otherwise.”

Reluctantly, Kurt let go of her. Turning, de Sardet reached up, put an arm around his neck, and kissed him.

“It isn’t as if you won’t see each other,” Aphra said, coming up alongside them.

“It won’t be the same,” de Sardet said.

“They are newlyweds,” Vasco pointed out.

“It’s been four months.”

“And every day they spend apart will feel like a year.”

“It’s not as if one of them stayed in Teer Fradee.”

“When you fall in love, maybe you’ll understand.” Vasco turned. “Bring in that sail there!” he called out, and moved away, caught up in bringing his ship safely into port.

“It all seems very illogical,” Aphra said, looking at de Sardet and Kurt, who had broken off their embrace, but were now holding hands “I don’t think I’ll ever understand.”

“For your sake, I hope you will,” Kurt said. The sentiment in his tone surprised de Sardet.

“Kurt! You’re becoming as hopeless a romantic as Vasco.”

“If I am, it’s because of you.” He risked one final kiss, and then reluctantly let go of de Sardet’s hand. “I should go check on the other members of the Guard. Make sure they know their orders.”

“And not to tell anyone in the palace that you’re newlyweds,” Aphra called after him.

De Sardet sighed and went belowdecks to ensure that all their trunks had been packed. They came into port speedily and smoothly despite the fog, a credit to Vasco’s navigator, and to the fleet commander himself.

“Well, you know where to find me,” said Vasco as they disembarked. “I’ll be here at the docks, awaiting your call.”

“Be ready to sail at any time,” Kurt told him. “Just in case.”

Vasco nodded. “The admiralty won’t be happy with me if I leave without stowing a full hold of cargo, but they’d understand, if it came to that. One of the benefits of being a fleet commander is being granted greater latitude with your orders.”

“I’ll be staying at the Coin Tavern,” said Aphra. “Unless you think I’ll be welcome at the palace with the _doneigada_.” 

“You’ll certainly have a place at the palace,” said de Sardet, but Kurt shook his head.

“Don’t you think you ought to test the mood at the palace first, Green Blood? I’d wager tensions with the Bridge are running high. The last they heard, it was a scientist from the Bridge who gave Constantin the malichor.”

“And I have ties to Doctor Asili,” said Aphra.

“If you take her to the palace, odds are I won’t be the only one you have to worry about,” said Kurt.

De Sardet sighed. “I will send for you, if I can,” she promised. “Be careful. The streets of Serene can be dangerous.”

“I can handle myself,” Aphra replied.

De Sardet turned to Kurt. “Are you ready?” She touched his chest, feeling for the chain he wore against his skin: both de Sardet and Kurt had put their wedding rings on a necklace, rather than wear them openly.

“I am. Have you had your dose of fortifiers?” Kurt had insisted that they bring the ingredients used for the mixture from Teer Fradee: while they had to be brewed shortly before ingestion, Aphra had done that this morning, using a mortar and pestle to combine the ingredients into the unpalatable brew.

“I have,” de Sardet answered. Given what had happened the last time they’d debarked, de Sardet hadn’t minded his caution. She’d taken the bowl directly from Aphra, who had given her a sardonic look as she’d handed her the dish; only as de Sardet had raised it to her lips did she remember what Aphra had told her about her own dark vision of the future.

“I promise, this isn’t poisoned,” Aphra had said as de Sardet drank.

“What about you?” de Sardet asked. “Have you had yours?”

Kurt nodded. “If we die here, it won’t be of the sailors’ sickness.”

“I don’t intend to die here at all.” De Sardet paused. “Are you ready? My uncle will be expecting us.”

“As ready as I can be.” Kurt clasped her hands in both of his, then raised it to his lips. “Let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

The journey from the docks to the palace was sobering: after the fresh air and vibrancy of Teer Fradee, the sickness and decay that pervaded the city was a harsh reminder of everything de Sardet had left behind. The smell of sickness and rot was evident from the moment they stepped off the docks and into the city, quickly overlaid with the smell of burning flesh as they passed through the Princes’ Place. Doctors with their plague masks were everywhere.

“I’d forgotten what a shithole this city was,” said Kurt.

“Excuse me,” said Sir de Courcillon; he was trailing behind them, flanked by members of the Coin Guard. Unlike de Sardet, he had clearly never spent time roaming the city on his own, and clutched at his cloak as if he expected to be set upon by bandits at any moment. “This city is one of the finest on the continent.”

“Twenty years ago, maybe,” Kurt replied. “Before the malichor. Now…” he gestured. “Where would you rather live, here or New Serene?”

“Serene is my home,” de Courcillon replied. “I would rather see it restored to greatness than remain in New Serene…although I am happy to continue to serve you there, Your Excellency,” he amended to de Sardet. “Yet I would hardly wish to retire there.”

“What I’d give to be there now,” Kurt replied, stepping over a pile of refuse in the middle of the street. “Teer Fradee may not have the luxuries of Serene, but I’d take fresh air and freedom over spices and silks any day.”

“So would I. Growing up, this was the only home I ever knew,” said de Sardet. She had grown up entirely in Serene; until she had traveled to Teer Fradee, she had only ever taken a few excursions into the countryside, to one summer palace or another, and even then she had only had glimpses of fields and farmers before being enclosed behind another palace’s walls. “Until we left for Teer Fradee, I didn’t know things could be so different.”

“The rest of the continent’s not much better,” Kurt admitted. “I’ve been to nearly every country on the continent. It isn't just Theleme and the Bridge; it's no different in the smaller countries than the larger ones. Everywhere you go, you'll find crowded cities, filth in the rivers, pestilence in the streets. You can go as far north as Brystanor or as far south as Verrezia, but it's all the same: crumbling, stinking cities, polluted streams and clear-cut forests in the countryside, malichor everywhere.”

“I hope that Siora and the others can help. Can you imagine if they could find a cure?” De Sardet passed a man sprawled in an alleyway, his face covered in black veins. “So many could be saved.”

As they ascended the steps that led to the palace gates, she took Sir de Courcillon’s arm, pausing before a fountain. “Not a word to my uncle,” she told him, pinching the chain that held her wedding ring. Very quickly, she pulled the ring from beneath her doublet, leaving it out just long enough to catch her old tutor’s gaze. “Please, I beg you. I will tell him the truth at a time of my choosing.”

“As you wish,” de Courcillon said weakly as de Sardet tucked the ring and chain safely beneath her clothing. “Though I hope your uncle does not have my head for my role in it.”

“Your role? You watched, but it isn’t as if you could have stopped us,” Kurt said. The noise of the fountain blocked their conversation from anyone else who would have been listening in, but even so de Sardet found herself hoping that he wouldn’t say more; she was too afraid of her uncle to want the secret revealed so soon.

She exchanged glances with Kurt, and he gave her a nod as she released de Courcillon’s arm. “Are you ready to go in, Green Blood?”

She nodded, and Kurt eyed the guards who blocked the way. “They’ve doubled the guard since we were here last,” he said, then blinked in recognition as he advanced on the guards. “Hey! If it isn’t Lieutenant Wulfric!”

The guard’s mouth opened in surprise. “Captain Kurt!”

“That’s Major Kurt, now.”

“Major! Congratulations! It was about time,” said Wulfric. “Last I’d heard, they’d shipped you to Teer Fradee, but I didn’t know you were planning to come back!”

“I wasn’t,” said Kurt. He inclined his head. “His Serene Highness has summoned his niece. I came with her.”

Wulfric’s eyes widened as he looked past Kurt. “Your Excellency.” He saluted. “My condolences on the deaths of your family. Your cousin's death was most unexpected. We could hardly believe it when the news came. He had a grand funeral.” He grimaced. “There have been too many funerals since you left. Nobles have been dropping like flies, it seems.”

“Well, my noble won’t be joining them,” Kurt replied.

“The prince will be expecting you. He’s been waiting for news of your ship. He’s holding court today.”

“Then we'll know where to find him.” Kurt turned to de Sardet. “Come on, Green Blood. Best get this over with.”

They entered, and walked through the corridors and courtyards that were all too familiar. They moved through the courtyard where de Sardet had sparred with Kurt just before leaving, past the room where her mother had spent so many of her last days, and into the public areas of the palace, moving toward the hall where her uncle spent so much of his time holding court.

“The palace seems to be in mourning,” de Sardet observed as she noticed the blue and gold banners of the Congregation were draped with black crepe. “Do you think they’re mourning for Constantin? It must be five months at least since he was informed of Constantin’s death; I find it difficult to believe that my uncle would have put the court into mourning for him for so long.”

“The prince and princess will be wearing mourning for a year,” Kurt reminded her.

“Yes, but I can hardly imagine that they would have put the court into mourning for the same length of time. A few weeks, perhaps even a month, but any longer…” De Sardet thought of her uncle and aunt, shaking her head. “Constantin was their son, but neither my uncle nor my aunt have ever been particularly sentimental.” Augustin d’Orsay might have mourned the death of his heir and the derailing of his plans, while Heloise d’Orsay would certainly have mourned the loss of prestige and power that would result from having lost her position as mother of the heir, but de Sardet could not imagine either of them truly mourning.

“He was still their son,” Kurt pointed out. “Maybe they loved him more than they were willing to show.”

“We’re talking about my uncle and aunt, Kurt,” de Sardet replied in a low voice. “I doubt it.”

They had no more time to talk, having reached the entrance to the Hall of Princes. Despite herself, de Sardet’s heart began to race. _I’ve been in this room a thousand times. Constantin and I played here as children when my uncle was not holding court, and we stood and watched him holding his audiences on countless afternoons._ Once they had grown older, Constantin had often stood beside his father’s throne. Augustin d’Orsay had meant for Constantin to watch and learn, but more often than not, de Sardet thought that Constantin had yawned and daydreamed. _As he got older, he absented himself from those sessions more often than not._ The prince had reacted first with anger, then frustration, and finally contempt, but those fights had never improved Constantin’s attendance.

“Green Blood,” Kurt said quietly: here, she knew, it was the only endearment he dared. “Are you all right?”

De Sardet nodded. “There’s no point in delay,” she murmured. Kurt watched her a moment longer with concern before nodding to the guards at the door: they opened the double doors as one, moving with practiced smoothness.

“Lady de Sardet, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants on Teer Fradee,” the major-domo announced as de Sardet stepped inside. Kurt, as a member of the Coin Guard, was beneath notice; only nobles and select visitors were announced.

The Hall of Princes was actually a single great room, meant to showcase the wealth and power of the merchant-princes of the Congregation: its floors were black and white marble, patterned in diamonds, while the room itself was lined with gleaming marble columns, its walls lined with tapestries, statues interposed between the columns. A long carpet of silk and wool spanned the length of the room, running from the entrance all the way to the foot of the marble steps that once led up to a trio of thrones upon the dais: the right had belonged to Constantin, the left to his mother, the center to the Prince d’Orsay himself. De Sardet startled to realize that both of those seats had been removed.

 _Constantin’s, I understand, but my aunt’s?_ She barely had time to register the thought before she realized that the tapestries on each side of the room were draped in black crepe, just as the banners of the Congregation had been. Her feet were still moving, carrying her ever-closer to the foot of her uncle’s throne.

Her uncle had been conversing with another of the merchant-princes: several of them stood milling about on the sides of the room, but this one had been in the middle of a petition: as de Sardet drew nearer, she heard him saying, “…understand your need, and believe that the House de Renaud may be uniquely suited to provide. While I know some may think me overly forward or the timing premature, I believe that there is no sense in delay, and—”

Augustin d’Orsay held up a hand as he saw de Sardet; she knew that he had to have heard her name, but de Renaud seemed too caught up in his own proposal to have noticed her entrance. “Enough. We will speak of this later.”

De Renaud looked insulted. “Your Serene Highness, this dismissal is premature. I must insist—”

Augustin d’Orsay’s blue eyes were unyielding. “I have other business to attend to.”

“Excuse me,” de Renaud sputtered.

The Prince d’Orsay never raised his voice. “Look behind you.”

De Renaud turned, and stared at de Sardet in shock. “Your Grace,” he sputtered.

“We will speak later,” d’Orsay said. It was a command that brooked no further argument; she could see de Renaud visibly deflate.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said. Bowing, he backed away from the throne.

De Sardet went to one knee. “Your Serene Highness,” she said, crossing her arm over her heart as she bowed her head.

“Niece.” De Sardet’s head was still bowed respectfully, but she could hear the approval in her uncle’s voice. “You may rise.”

She got to her feet, looking to her uncle. Augustin d’Orsay was a tall, lean man, with patrician features, a hawklike nose, and hard blue eyes. His features were stark, as if carved from marble: he had sharply defined cheekbones, a high forehead, and a long, narrow face framed by thick sideburns. Constantin had inherited his mother’s coloring, with her pale blond hair and gray eyes, but there was a definite resemblance between Constantin and his father. The prince’s hair had once been a slightly darker shade of gold, though his hairline had receded long before it had gone gray. He was clad entirely in black, his clothing of luxurious material but austere in design; that had always been his way. His only concessions to ornament were his golden chain of office and a heavy golden signet ring; with a start, de Sardet realized that his wedding ring was missing.

Augustin d’Orsay looked her up and down in silence; de Sardet clasped her hands behind her back and waited. “You’re wearing mourning,” he observed.

“Yes, Your Highness. I know that it’s been over a year since my mother’s death, but it hasn’t been a year since I learned of it.”

“Your mother,” he repeated. “You haven’t heard.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could have known, unless someone told you at the port.”

De Sardet put the pieces together just before her uncle spoke: the missing throne, the signs of mourning, the princess’s absence. “Your aunt is dead. I have lost my wife as well as my son.”

“I’m so sorry,” de Sardet said automatically, though she doubted her uncle was grieving overly much: the match between Augustin d’Orsay and his wife had been one of political convenience, an alliance between two coldly determined schemers.

“Our period of mourning is nearly complete,” d’Orsay said. “Indeed, you arrive on the eve of its conclusion. My personal mourning will continue for some time longer, but I did not deem it appropriate to plunge the entire court into mourning for a longer period of time. Many noble members of the court have suffered losses since your departure; it seems your mother's death was but the first of many. The Prince de Betancourt died of a sudden pain in the chest not two months after your mother perished; he was followed by Lady de Betancourt, the wife of Sir Jacques de Betancourt, who died in childbed, and their infant son. Your mother was but one of several deaths from the malichor: you will remember Lady Charlotte de Beliveau, I am sure, and Sir Luc de Papillon.”

“Luc,” de Sardet realized, thinking of the dashing young lord she’d fallen so desperately in love with at the age of fifteen. _He only wanted to use me for my connection to my uncle, but I didn’t know it at the time._ He had been golden-haired and handsome, with the broad shoulders and muscular build she’d always preferred, like the statue of some young god. She had ended their relationship angry and hurt, but even though she had despised him afterwards, she wouldn’t have wished the malichor on him. "And Charlotte," she added, slightly belatedly; Charlotte de Beliveau had been about an age with her, a friend of Isabelle de Renaud, the girl who'd plagued her childhood. "They were so young." 

“Indeed,” d’Orsay replied. “You do remember them, I see. Lady de Beliveau perished quickly, about the time that news came to us of my own son's illness, while Sir de Papillon's affliction had plagued him for rather longer. It has been a time of mourning, and I fear you find us in a rather somber state.” 

"It has been a time of mourning for all of us. My cousin's death was terrible, of course, and to learn of my mother's passing so soon after..." She paused, swallowing over the lump in her throat that came when she thought of them, and chose to speak of an easier subject. "I am, of course, grieved to learn of my aunt's passing. My condolences for your loss." 

It was a lie, but a courteous one, and her uncle responded in kind. "Thank you." He rose from his throne, descending the steps. “My dear niece,” he said, in a voice meant to project throughout the hall. “Welcome home. You must be exhausted from your journey. You will have your old chambers. As will you, Sir de Courcillon. I fear that any sort of formal banquet will have to wait until tomorrow night, when the mourning for your aunt has ended, but perhaps you would be so kind as to join me in my chambers tonight for a private dinner. We have much to speak of.”

Again, it was a command rather than a request, and de Sardet knew it. “I would be delighted, uncle,” she replied, and d’Orsay enfolded her in an embrace. It was entirely perfunctory, devoid of any true affection, and as he pulled away from her she could see him searching her face, looking for answers.

 _To which questions?_ She kept her face as still as possible. “I am sorry for the loss of your son, Your Highness,” she said quietly. “His death was a great loss to us all.”

“I have suffered worse,” d’Orsay replied. “Yet I thank you for your condolences. You have my own on the loss of your mother…and your cousin, of course.” Again, that searching look. “I know the two of you were always close.”

“Always,” de Sardet echoed. For a split second, an image of her driving the blade through Constantin’s heart flashed before her eyes, and she heard the sound of his last painful breaths.

She snapped back to the moment. “My apologies,” she said. “I fear that the voyage has left me rather tired. I will see you tonight.”

“Of course. Until then.”

De Sardet bowed and backed away from the throne, and she could hear her uncle greeting de Courcillon. Kurt followed her from the room.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly once the doors had shut behind them.

“I will be, I think. My aunt’s death is a surprise. I wonder how she died? Surely not the malichor.”

“I’ll ask around,” Kurt said. “I’ll eat tonight in the barracks.” At her look of dismay, he said, “I doubt I’ll be invited to your private dinner, Green Blood.”

“I know, but…” She sighed. “I hadn’t considered it.”

“The prince will have his own guards. You can hardly bring your own.”

“I know,” she repeated. “But…please, come to my room tonight.”

Kurt startled. “I think you’ve forgotten how many eyes and ears are in this palace.”

“Not to stay,” she said. “Just to talk. If only for a little while. I don’t want to be alone.”

Kurt softened. “All right,” he agreed.

Her rooms were just as she’d left them: the bed pristinely made, the same tapestries on the walls, the same carpets on the floors. She tried to sleep, but found she could not; instead, she made her way to her mother’s rooms.

These were not as she’d left them: someone had draped sheets over the furniture, stripped the bed of its bedding, rolled up the tapestries and packed them away. A fine layer of dust coated the bed, and she trailed her fingers in it as she searched the room for some trace of her mother.

“Mother,” she murmured, but she could find no trace of Jeanne de Sardet in her room. She fingered the medallion her mother had given her, the ‘family heirloom’ that had once belonged to Arelwin, and found herself wishing desperately that she could have spoken with her mother, if only for a few moments. _You would tell me what to say to my uncle. I could ask you when you knew the truth, and how you could have kept these secrets from me._

 _These secrets._ A thought struck her then: _If my mother had lived, could I have told her the truth about Constantin? About Kurt? About everything that has happened in Teer Fradee?_ Jeanne de Sardet had kept secrets from her daughter, but Alexandra de Sardet had secrets of her own.

“I would have told you,” de Sardet murmured. “I would have told you everything, and asked why you never told me.” Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them back: she knew that she would be expected at her uncle’s rooms all too soon.


	6. Chapter 6

She arrived with her habitual punctuality, a pair of guards parting to permit her entrance. The prince’s suite was vast, and had its own dining table, capable of seating a dozen with ease. Only two place settings were laid out: her uncle’s, at the head of the table, and one at his right hand.

“Alexandra,” he said, entering. “Please, sit. Enjoy the meal. I am sure it will be a welcome change from ship’s rations.”

“Yes,” she said.

The meal itself was like any other state dinner she’d had since becoming legate: filled with polite nothings, carefully chosen replies, and courteous speech. Augustin d’Orsay asked after the island itself, and she provided nuance and detail to all the dispatches that Constantin had sent from New Serene: information on the construction that was proceeding apace in the Copper District and the Port Quarter, trade agreements that had been concluded with Hikmet and San Matheus, the burgeoning links of trade and friendship she’d begun to forge with the native clans. Constantin’s dispatches had left off well before Vinbarr’s death and Dunncas’s election, but Lady de Morange had sent those updates with Constantin’s remains, and now the Prince d'Orsay had incisive and insightful questions to ask about Dunncas and the natives’ disposition toward the Congregation. He even asked after the Coin Guard’s attempted coup, and de Sardet was sure to commend Kurt for his role in thwarting it, along with the subsequent investigations they’d conducted into corruption amongst the Guard. She made a distinct effort to keep her praise sincere but not overly lavish, hoping that her uncle wouldn’t detect any signs of her affection.

She noticed the subjects her uncle avoided: there was no mention of Doctor Asili or the discoveries she’d made in Hikmet, nor his trial and execution. Nor did he mention Bishop Petrus: while she had excluded any mention of her own personal discoveries from the dispatches, and she certainly hadn’t mentioned the extortion of the Mother Cardinal that she’d assisted Petrus with, she hadn’t been able to exclude him entirely. _Petrus knows the truth of my past, and my uncle must know that,_ she thought, but she did not mention him: she was on uncertain ground here, in her uncle’s domain, and she dared not test him. _I ought to have asked Petrus whether my uncle knew of his visits to my mother while she was in prison, or if he ever spoke to either my uncle or my mother of Arelwin._ She wished Petrus was with her now: she would have appreciated his political skill and advice. 

Instead, she had to rely on her own instincts, avoiding any mention of Petrus, Arelwin, or the truth. Throughout the dinner, the Prince d’Orsay did not mention Constantin; nor did he mention Constantin’s mother, his late wife; nor de Sardet’s mother, his sister. Only when the servants had cleared away their meals and the candles had burned low did he speak.

“You have become a fine diplomat, niece. I must compliment you on your skill. You have talked for two hours and never once touched upon any of the truths that lie between us.” He steepled his fingers. “Of course, I never doubted that you would succeed on Teer Fradee. It was Constantin I was concerned for. Obviously, those concerns had merit.”

De Sardet remained silent, though it took effort to keep herself from reacting at his mention of Constantin’s name.

“Yes,” d’Orsay continued. “I had set him up for success as best I could. At least, I had ensured he would not ruin New Serene with his foolishness. Lady de Morange had served as governor, and could ably take up those duties in his stead if he chose to shirk them; Sir de Courcillon was an able advisor, and one of the few he might listen to; even Vaillancourt, tiresome as he is, has a certain amount of ability when it involves the minutiae of bureaucracy. They would ensure that the city itself was well-managed, and you…you would ensure that diplomacy was ably conducted.” His eyes fell upon her _on ol menawi_ mark as he spoke, and lingered there with a meaningful look.

“And still, you do not react.” D’Orsay raised his wine-glass to his lips; the ruby liquid sparkled in the candlelight. “I am surprised you returned at all, despite my command. Heloise thought you would refuse. ‘Let the little savage stay,’ she said. ‘It is undoubtedly what she wants. What use has she here?’ She was, of course, overwrought at the loss of her son. Not because she loved him, of course, but because of what it meant for her position. Her death was…sudden, but not wholly unexpected, at least not by those who understood how things stood at the court.”

“Some say her heart broke from grief, but others…well, you know her reputation. They say that, for one so experienced with poisons, her carelessness was surprising. A mislabeled vial, an accident…but one that leaves me free to wed again. I may live another twenty years; my next heir may never equal Sebastien, but I certainly expect him to outshine Constantin. Perhaps I should have given up on him sooner, but I was reluctant to declare failure a decade ago, and after that…perhaps I am growing soft in my old age. I had hoped, even believed, that he might become more than what he was.” D’Orsay tilted his head. “Perhaps it is for the best. You seemed to think better of him, but he was always a disappointment. You always shared a certain…cousinly affection. I hoped that affection would persist on Teer Fradee, despite whatever…difficulties that bond might endure.”

“You are trying to provoke a reaction from me,” de Sardet realized.

D’Orsay raised an eyebrow. “Will you make me state it plainly? Part of me thinks it a shame that you are not truly my niece; you would have made a far more able heir than Constantin, and if you were of the d’Orsay blood, certain of my plans would be far easier than they are at present. But, of course, if you were truly my niece, my plans involving Teer Fradee would be far more difficult.”

“You took me from my home before my birth,” de Sardet burst out. “You took me from my mother and locked her in a jail cell to die. You angered the Nauts by taking me from them. You gave me to my mother to raise, and all my life, she told me that I was her daughter, the image of Prince Alexandre de Sardet, so tragically killed on an expedition so very far from home. Lies, all of it!”

“Not all,” d’Orsay replied. “The Prince de Sardet was killed on an expedition – the very expedition that resulted in your birth mother’s abduction. He died to bring you here, killed by a group of natives who were attempting a rescue of your birth mother. My sister was devastated by his death. When that expedition returned with the child I had requested, she was more than willing to raise you as her own. She had always wanted a child, and her marriage to the prince had been marked by several miscarriages, stillbirths, and one daughter who survived less than a day. I believe that she saw you as the daughter she ought to have had.”

“You look nothing like Alexandre, of course; that was a lie I think she came to believe as the years passed and his memory faded. Within the court, I believe that some genuinely came to believe that you did resemble him; others may have thought that it was covering some affair. There are many ladies of the Congregation who have given their husband a child that is not truly his. But none who did not already know the secret suspected the truth.”

“Who already knew? How many of them were there? Does every prince of the Congregation know?”

“They certainly do not,” d’Orsay said sharply. “A precious few of my allies may suspect the truth, men I’d dispatched with Alexandre to Teer Fradee. They certainly knew that your mark was shared by the natives, and that I’d given orders to have a pregnant native captured and returned to these shores. But most of those men are dead now, killed by malichor or court intrigue or the simple ravages of time. Among the present members of the court? Two, perhaps three, would be in any position to know – Sir de Courcillon, Lady de Morange, and any others on the island excluded, of course.”

“But how could you keep such a secret? Surely someone would have noticed my mother was never pregnant.”

“She was,” d’Orsay replied. “The Prince de Sardet had left her _enceinte_ when he departed for Teer Fradee, but that pregnancy ended with another stillbirth. A boy, I believe; the cord was wrapped around his neck. Heloise ensured the midwife’s silence, and my sister took you into her arms with none the wiser. As for the rest…I treated my allies well, gave them concessions. You scarcely know how much you cost.”

“Your alliance with the Nauts,” de Sardet said. “I was sea-born. You were willing to break the treaty with the Nauts to keep me.”

“I strained our relationship for them for a generation,” d’Orsay replied. “The day the expedition’s ship returned to Serene Harbor, I boarded the ship. When I saw you, with your native’s mark, I knew that you were precisely what I needed.”

“There was violence between the Nauts and my guards that day, when I took you and your mother from the ship, and riots in the Nauts’ quarter for days afterward. In the end, I spoke with their admiral, and the price he extracted from me was dear: gold, yes, but the Nauts wanted children more than coin. I paid them with a dozen noble children, and two score of commoners beside. Tensions were severe, but that was the price of keeping you – and of the Nauts keeping your secret. I find myself disappointed that they told.”

“They told me nothing,” de Sardet said, lying through her teeth: Admiral Cabral had given her none of the details of the exact price the Nauts had exacted or the violence that had occurred, but had told her the truth of her origins, and of the near-break in the alliance between the Congregation and the Nauts. _The Nauts may not have broken the alliance completely, but they sold their knowledge of the island to the Bridge and Theleme, and ferried members of both countries to Teer Fradee to colonize its shores._

“Nothing? Please. How else would you know that your birth mother was imprisoned until she died? The natives could not have known that.” The prince took her silence for confirmation. “They were always angry. Their foolish traditions!”

“Keeping me here cost my mother’s life,” said de Sardet. “Her name was Arelwin, the _doneigad_ of Vignamri, a member of the bone-blowers' clan. My father was Declan. My name was Aine.” Her lower lip quavered despite herself. “I have met my aunt. I have learned of the life that was taken from me – the lives that were taken from me, my life on Teer Fradee and my life as a Naut. What I do not know is _why_.”

“Why did you send an expedition to Teer Fradee to abduct a pregnant native? Why did you insist on raising me as your niece? Why did you send me to Teer Fradee, knowing I would discover the truth? Was it worth the cost of Alexandre de Sardet’s life? Was it worth the lives of my mother and father? What could possibly have been worth that?”

“Teer Fradee itself,” d’Orsay replied. Even as de Sardet grew emotional, his expression never changed; his voice remained level, his demeanor calm. “I wasn’t paying for your life, my dear child; I was paying for the power to influence Teer Fradee.”

“It was, as all things, a calculated risk. I could not have predicted the Prince de Sardet’s death, but as for the rest? It was certainly a price worth paying, a gamble that might pay off in twenty years’ time.” D’Orsay’s gaze fell again on her mark. “You are a native. I trusted that they would trust you, and that would increase your effectiveness as a representative of the Congregation. I also trusted that, if raised by my dear sister, you would be loyal to the Congregation. She truly did cherish you as her own, and I know that love was certainly returned – is still returned, given that you are wearing mourning for her sake. Unless, of course, you lied, and that mourning is for Constantin.” He watched de Sardet’s face for a moment, and she hated herself as he said, “No? Then you do still care for her, despite all your talk of lies and deceit. She may have deceived you, but you certainly love her.”

“I will not believe that she only loved me so she could manipulate me into feeling loyalty toward the Congregation!”

“Listen more closely,” d’Orsay chided her. “Have I said your mother did not love you? She cherished you, and as you grew older, she hated the idea that you would be used for your intended purpose. But she never did agree with me on that point; when she looked at you, she saw only a motherless infant, a child to replace her own. She thought you a gift from the heavens, some divine compensation for the loss of her husband and all those stillborn children.”

D’Orsay spread his hands. “I will admit, I did not discourage her. She loved you, and I was willing to use that for my own ends. I have not survived as the Prince of the Congregation for so long by failing to make use of every tool at my disposal. My sister loved you; I used that to my advantage, the same way I used your friendship with Constantin.”

“Constantin didn’t know,” she said. “Not until I told him, on Teer Fradee.”

“Certainly not. He was too fragile to be entrusted with such a secret, and far too unsteady. He would have shouted the news to the world, thinking to hurt me, but he would have hurt you far more.”

“I must admit, I did what I could to further your friendship in the hopes that it would increase your personal loyalty to him, and therefore to the Congregation as well; given your own temperament, I had hoped it would have benefits for Constantin as well. Then, I did not know I would send him to Teer Fradee at your side, but when the opportunity arose, I thought it would benefit you both. Constantin had much to learn from you, and his presence on the island would certainly increase your chances of remaining in the service of the Congregation once you learned the truth.”

“You thought I might resign?”

“Have you learned nothing of me? I plan for all possibilities. You might have chosen to run away to join the natives; you might have joined the Nauts. You might have been slaughtered by a ravenous horde of beasts in your first week on the island. You might never even have reached the island; ships are known to sink, after all, and the crossing is not without danger. I did what I could to increase the chances of a favorable outcome. I sent Constantin with you to remind you of home; I sent your master-at-arms to protect you; I gave you an important mission that would use your skills to the best of your abilities. You have always been a dutiful child, and an intelligent one; a position which kept you in Constantin’s service, but in a position where you could be most useful to him, meant that you would be less likely to abandon him once you learned of the truth. And, of course, positioning you as legate meant you could be of the greatest use to me.”

“In your plans for the island,” de Sardet said bitterly. “What did you want to use me for? The Bridge wanted to experiment on the natives; Theleme wanted to convert them.”

“You have stopped them from doing both,” d’Orsay said. “The Bridge Alliance has sent a delegation here to discuss its doings on Teer Fradee, while Theleme has just appointed a new cardinal for San Matheus who has declared that dialogue, not conversion, will be the order of the day.”

“A new cardinal? A replacement for Cornelia?”

“Not precisely,” replied d’Orsay. “He will serve as an adjunct to her. It seems that Theleme has given orders for the dismantling of the Ordo Luminis on the island, and believes that a cardinal may be necessary to fill the power vacuum that will be left by their absence. I do not think that the Conclave of Cardinals wishes to give Cornelia that much power entirely unopposed.” He took another sip from his glass. “I believe that you are to thank for that. Theleme has already sent its thanks for your role in uncovering certain teachings of Saint Matheus. Because of those teachings, there has been a certain amount of political upheaval in their kingdom. The Ordo Luminis is on the decline, and their opponents are enjoying an increase in power.”

“Revealing those teachings kept them from harming the natives,” de Sardet replied. “I hope that dialogue, not conversion, will be the new order of the day.” She steered the conversation back to her original point, not wanting to let the prince divert her. “I know what the Bridge and Theleme wanted on Teer Fradee. What is it that you want? Why send me?”

“Serene is dying. Dying slowly, but dying nonetheless. Our trade dwindles; with every passing year, we are caught between Theleme and the Bridge. The malichor saps our strength. The Bridge and Theleme are caught up in fighting one another, and both call us ally, but they are not the only nations in Gacane: if Caledon and Brystanor ever settle their own differences, they will surely realize that we are an easy target. I would prefer not to see the Congregation devoured by Theleme or the Bridge in order to protect us from the rapacity of our northern neighbors.”

“Teer Fradee represents a new chance for wealth. The possibility of trade with the natives, new settlements, untold riches: mining, lumber, fishing, furs. Leather and bile from those beasts, obsidian and rubies, iron ore…the raw wealth of the island alone would be worth having. Add to that the new plants and animals, the natives’ strange magics, the lack of the malichor and the idea that the island itself might hide a cure…it is our chance for survival, Alexandra, a chance to make Serene what it once was, and more still than that.”

“We cannot conquer it. We rely far too entirely on the Coin Guard, and we could not afford the prices they would charge to take an island on our behalf; besides, as events have shown, I do not believe they could be trusted to take it for them. Nor are we soldiers, used to fighting wars. We are merchant-princes, and must take our wealth through trade, not conquest – but to trade with the natives, to establish peace, they must trust us. Given our previous excursions to the island, along with the depredations of Theleme and the Bridge, I knew that would be a difficult proposition.”

“So you stole a child?”

“I had a few natives abducted, to try to learn more about them and their people,” d’Orsay replied. “I gave orders for the abduction of a pregnant woman, yes, in order to take her child to be raised as a noble of the Congregation. When I saw you had inherited her mark, I knew you would be perfect. You looked like a native; they would be more likely to trust you.”

“Of course, it was a long gambit, and one I had to trust would pay off. You might have turned out as useless as Constantin; you might have fallen from the ramparts of Serene climbing after him. You might not have survived infancy. I had other plans, if you had not lived, but I believe we are both glad that it never became necessary to put those plans into use. You survived, and I shaped you into precisely what I had hoped you would be: the perfect emissary to Teer Fradee, loyal to the Congregation, but able to negotiate more easily with the natives.”

“You may hate me for it now. You may despise me. But what I have done, I have done for the good of the Congregation, to save my people and my country from dying. That it cost a few lives? Alexandre shared my aims; he would have gladly given his life to save the Congregation. The parents of your birth? A few native savages. The life you might have led? What life? That of a savage with tree branches growing from your head, scratching a living from the dirt, or the life of a Naut, scrubbing some deck until your hands were raw, scaling some mast with the sea spray in your face?”

“You were raised as a lady of the Congregation of Merchants, as the daughter of Princess Jeanne de Sardet and the niece of the Prince d’Orsay, His Serene Highness of the Congregation of Merchants himself, first among the princes of the Congregation. There could be no better life. If you wish to weigh the life I took from you, Alexandra de Sardet, make sure you place it on the correct side of the scale." D’Orsay drew himself up. “If the Enlightened of Theleme himself descended from the heavens and offered you the chance, would you alter your life? Would you choose to have been raised on your precious island, or have lived on the Nauts’ ships? Would you rather have lived never knowing your mother, or your beloved cousin, or the luxuries you’ve known here? Come, tell me truly.”

De Sardet thought of both her mothers, and of the father she’d never known, and of her aunt’s tearful descriptions of Arelwin and Declan. She thought of Constantin, and Kurt, and everyone she’d ever met in Serene; she thought of the friends she’d met on Teer Fradee, and the work she’d done as legate. She thought of the branching futures that _en on mil frichtimen_ had shown her in Credhenes, and wondered what it might have showed her if she had asked it what would have happened if her mother had never been abducted, or if the Prince d’Orsay had decided the Nauts’ price was too high to pay for a single native infant. 

“I can only know the life I’ve lived,” she said slowly. “I don’t regret that life. I wouldn’t choose to give it up.” _Constantin already gave me that choice. I could have forsaken this life for power that you could never have imagined. After what I’ve been through to earn this life, I could never throw it away so easily._

“Which is why you are standing here before me as a legate of the Congregation, Princess de Sardet,” d’Orsay said. De Sardet startled at the title. “Did you think I would refuse you the title? How could I? The de Sardet title and fortune are yours. It isn’t as if there are any distant relatives who might challenge the will; Alexandre was the last scion of his house. As I said, we princes of the Congregation are a dying race.”

“And you have lost your heir,” de Sardet said tartly. It irked her that the prince had refused to speak of his son, except in passing, as a failure and a disappointment; she had not seen a single trace of grief on his face. “Your son and wife are dead, and you do not grieve!”

“Did you expect me to? I grieved deeply enough when Helena died, and Sebastien after her.” Pain did flicker in the prince’s features then: he rarely spoke the name of his first wife and son. Helena and Sebastien d’Orsay had perished together, victims of a tragic assassination attempt that had claimed their lives but not the life of Augustin, who had been its primary target. The prince’s response had been immediate and vicious: the three princely houses that had conspired at the attempt had all been utterly destroyed, their names eradicated, even their family tombs destroyed and the bones of their ancestors scattered. Jeanne de Sardet had spoken to her daughter of the conspiracy a handful of times, and only ever in hushed tones: her brother had truly loved his wife and child, she had said, and his grief had revealed itself in the extent of his vengeance. 

Despite his love for Helena d’Orsay, the prince had always been conscious of the need to remarry: less than a year after her death, the prince remarried, and the year after that, Constantin had been born. Helena d’Orsay had been known as a gentle soul, kind-hearted and sweet-natured, with all the warmth her husband lacked; Heloise d’Orsay, his second wife, had been everything that she was not. Everyone in the Congregation had known that the prince’s second marriage had been purely for political reasons, and it seemed to Alexandra that her uncle had decided to love neither his second wife nor his second son, remaining devoted to the memory of his first family. Sebastien d’Orsay was remembered by the court as a young man who’d possessed his father’s brilliance and his mother’s kindness, a promising leader whose life had been cut short far too soon. _Constantin could never compare,_ de Sardet thought, _least of all in his father’s eyes._

“Surely you’ve read his dispatches,” she said. “You should have been proud of him. Constantin was a good governor. He was diligent in his work, and he had so many ideas about how to improve the city—”

“Constantin was always full of ideas. Whether or not he was capable of putting them into practice was another matter entirely.”

“He was ruling well. Lady de Morange didn’t have to rule for him; he took responsibility. He wanted to make you proud. You should be proud.”

“For doing what he ought to have done a decade ago? If he had more of a sense of duty, I wouldn’t have had to send him halfway across the world.” The Prince d’Orsay was merciless. “I read his dispatches. I also read yours, and Lady de Morange’s besides. He may have began well enough, but how long did that state of affairs continue? A few months, half a year? I know how it ended: with his descent into madness, and a final outburst of temper in which he antagonized all our allies and might well have started a war had not you been there to prevent it.”

“He had the malichor. He was suffering.”

“Your mother was suffering, and yet she managed to refrain from hurting others. Jeanne died in agony. I am not a religious man, but by the end, I was praying that she might find peace. I would have prayed to the Enlightened of Theleme or to Logic itself if I thought it would have helped.” De Sardet stared: her uncle had nearly roared the words. It was more emotion than she had seen him express regarding his own wife or his son.

Augustin d’Orsay seemed startled by his own outburst, for he quickly reined himself in. “Constantin remained an overgrown child. You say he descended into madness; it was madness, yes, but was he truly mad? Or was he taking out his anger on the rest of the world, knowing that he was helpless and dying while the others would survive? Mustering a group of guards personally loyal to him, trying to conjure native magics—” He broke off, eyeing de Sardet. “Our allies speak of a battle at some native sanctuary, and of your deeds in particular.” 

“I wanted to stop Constantin,” said de Sardet. Her heart was pounding against her chest, hammering so loudly she could hear it in her ears. “I wanted to convince him to come home. But by the time I reached him, it was too late.”

“Well.” D’Orsay regarded her. “I received his bones. Ash and bone, together in a casket. A sculptor has carved the effigy for his tomb. You may judge the quality of the likeness for yourself. Your mother’s tomb is similarly complete; I believe Heloise’s is nearing completion. It has been nearly three months since her death.”

“Did you kill her?”

D’Orsay’s lip curled back as if she’d said something mildly distasteful. In truth, she thought that his only distaste was that she’d phrased the question so bluntly. “Heloise tasted the same poison she had inflicted on so many others. I am free to remarry and produce another heir; she was too old to give me one. Besides, Constantin was a disappointment; even if she had been capable, why should I try again?”

“What of me? Do I still have use for you?”

D’Orsay’s lips twisted wryly. “If I had wanted you dead, I could have arranged that in Teer Fradee, or perhaps on the voyage home. Even Naut ships sometimes encounter pirates, rogues who mutinied against their Naut captains and set a black flag to their mast. I am assuming that you are not willing to abandon this life to the natives yet?”

 _I want to return to Teer Fradee,_ de Sardet almost said. _I want to go home with Kurt._ Instead, she only said, “That depends on what your plans for me are.”

“Which plan? You know well that I never have only one. But the hour grows late, and I believe we have spoken long enough.” He rose, and de Sardet had no choice but to do the same. “Good night, Your Highness.”


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt met her in the corridor on the way back to her rooms. “I don’t dare follow you inside, but we can talk here,” he said. Nodding to the servants in the halls, he whispered, “You know some of those men report to your uncle.”

“Some of the women, too,” de Sardet agreed. As quietly as she could, she related her uncle’s conversation.

“As long as he accepts what happened to Constantin—”

“Accepts? He doesn’t care! His own father—” De Sardet could barely contain her outrage. “Kurt, it isn’t right.”

“You remember him,” he reminded her. “His father doesn’t have to.”

“His mother is dead.”

“Poison is the talk in the barracks. Rumors are divided: some say the prince told her to commit suicide, others say he did it himself, and many think one of her enemies took advantage of the news of Constantin’s death. In any case, she won’t hurt you.” Seeing the look in de Sardet’s eyes, Kurt said, “She never liked you, Green Blood. If I were you, I wouldn’t mourn her passing.”

“She never liked Constantin, either.”

“She liked the position he gave her. She would have been furious that you were alive while he was dead. If she’d known—” Kurt’s hand tightened on her arm. “I couldn’t protect Constantin from poison. I have to protect you.”

They reached her room, and she wished desperately that she could invite Kurt inside. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept without him at her side.

Instead, he straightened and saluted. “Good night, Your Excellency,” he said.

 _My sweet Excellency._ She wished she could have heard the endearment. “Good night, Kurt.”

The next day, she rose to find a servant ready and waiting for her. “Forgive me,” she said when she startled to see the woman in her room. “I’d forgotten what it’s like to live at Court.”

“You don’t have servants on that island of yours, Your Excellency?”

“A few servants in the diplomatic residences, but I’ve spent more of my time on the island camping, traveling between cities or staying in native villages.” She didn’t mention that the maid who attended her in the legate’s residence in New Serene had quickly learned to stay out of her rooms in the morning: all of the servants in the de Sardet residence had taken to turning a blind eye to de Sardet’s romance with Kurt, at least to her face. Entering the room while they were both in the same bed would have ruined that pretense, and so the chambermaid had taken to cleaning only after they’d both risen for the day.

_I can’t remember the last time I had someone dress me._ She’d never liked formal dress, preferring the casual clothing permitted on the training grounds or in her more solitary moments.

As the servant took a dress from her closet, she realized she would not have that choice here. “I brought my own clothing,” she began, but the servant shook her head.

“At your uncle’s command, Your Excellency,” she replied, taking a dress from the closet. De Sardet grimaced at the sight: whalebone corsetry, a stiffened collar, and far too much lace.

It was also a vivid shade of green. “I’m in mourning,” de Sardet protested. "My mother-"

The servant gave her a sympathetic look. “Your uncle has said that mourning here has ended. Now, if you’ll allow me…”

De Sardet had a moment of panic as she realized that removing her nightdress would reveal the chain around her neck, and with it, her wedding ring. “I can dress myself,” she said, and saw the servant’s skepticism.

“With respect, Your Excellency, you can’t do the laces. I’ll be in so much trouble if you don’t wear this.”

De Sardet sighed. “Fine,” she said, and had another thought. “But I do need to use the chamber pot before we begin. If you’ll grant me a moment’s privacy…”

The servant bowed and retreated, and de Sardet stepped behind the privacy screen in the corner of the room. Quickly, she removed her necklace, palming the chain and ring, and before calling the servant back slipped both into a corner of her trunk.

Once she had returned, de Sardet allowed her to dress her. She wore both a necklace and a magical ring: she was not about to enter her uncle’s court unarmed.

Kurt was waiting for her outside her door. “Well, Green Blood,” he said, looking over her attire. “I’d say you look magnificent, but you look miserable.”

“I never liked all this finery.” She pulled on the dress’s collar, which felt slightly too tight.

“Where are we off to today?”

“My uncle is holding open court. He requests my presence. I wish I knew why.”

When she entered the Hall of Merchants, the reason became clear: the Prince d’Orsay was engaged in a meeting with a contingent of diplomats from the Bridge Alliance. De Sardet recognized Ambassador Sahin, who had served in Serene for several years, but he was not the head of the delegation; Sahin stood slightly behind and to the left of another man, one de Sardet had never seen before, who was clad in a silk turban and embroidered kaftan richer than even the ambassador's garb. The rest of the diplomats were clearly junior to the ambassador and his companion; they stood a few steps behind them, many of them looking cowed by the Prince d'Orsay, who was speaking to the delegation with cold fury. 

“…reparations from the Bridge Alliance,” d’Orsay was saying. “What sort of reparations could pay for the life of my son? This Doctor Asili was a revered figure, not merely in Hikmet but throughout the Bridge. Am I to believe he operated this laboratory without the governor’s knowledge?”

“Doctor Asili acted without any sort of official sanction,” the diplomat was saying.

“Do you take me for a fool? I have read Governor Burhan’s denials, as well as the missives that he sent to both Legate de Sardet and my son. He wishes me to believe that he had no knowledge of Asili’s actions.” D’Orsay caught sight of de Sardet. “Here is the legate you tried to poison! In the last year, I have buried my sister, my wife, and my son. If not for sheer luck, I would also have had to bury my sister’s daughter, the last remnant of my family. Tell me, Legate de Sardet, do you truly believe that Governor Burhan knew nothing of the good doctor’s experiments?”

“Governor Burhan expressed disbelief at the revelations,” de Sardet said cautiously, unsure of what her uncle expected her to say. “He disavowed all knowledge of the doctor's deeds, claiming his complete innocence...while also trying to protect the doctor, and claiming that he hoped his reputation within the Bridge's scientific community would not be sullied by the discovery of his latest deeds. Given how openly the doctor worked, and how large the scale of his operations, I find it difficult to believe that the governor knew nothing of any of Doctor Asili’s experiments…but I would hope that no appointed official of the Bridge Alliance would be so foolish as to attempt to poison the governor and legate of one of their closest allies.”

“One would hope,” d’Orsay repeated, then fixed the emissary of the Bridge with those ice-blue eyes. “Particularly when the governor and legate of that ally also happen to be the son and niece of that ally's ruler. Yet all evidence is to the contrary. You yourself discovered the letter that proved Asili had you poisoned, did you not?”

“Yes.” It took all de Sardet’s self-control to remain calm. “I personally gathered the evidence for his trial. There was a letter from Doctor Emir, the man who poisoned the fortifiers that were given to us when we left the _Sea Horse_ , as well as the journal of Doctor Emir, which we discovered after his arrest. Doctor Emir died in his cell before he could be brought to trial himself, but we also have testimony from the scientists who worked in Doctor Asili's laboratory and knew of his actions; they received copies of the reports he sent to Doctor Asili, documenting the progress of Constantin's illness, as well as my own failure to become ill. We also have proof in the form of testimony of the surviving Nauts and natives who Doctor Asili experimented on in his laboratory; several recount their companions being force-fed a black substance that matches the description of the distillate of malichor essence that Doctor Asili used to murder my cousin, and to attempt to murder me." 

“None of that proves that the Bridge knew of Doctor Asili’s actions,” the emissary sputtered.

D'Orsay's eyes flashed. “He engaged in these actions under the very nose of your governor, within a stone’s throw of the palace of Hikmet. Am I to believe that your governor is criminally incompetent, criminally stupid, or a criminal accomplice? In any case, his actions are criminal. My only son and heir is dead because of him, and I would be well within my rights to consider this an act of war.”

“Your Serene Highness,” de Sardet interrupted, alarmed. “With respect, Governor Burhan did bring the doctor to justice. I watched his beheading.”

“When he was caught, and only because you insisted. I read your reports; I know the governor was resistant to punishing him.”

“Doctor Asili is a national hero,” the Bridge’s emissary said, then fell silent. “All I meant to say was that Governor Burhan could not proceed without evidence—”

“Which Legate de Sardet provided. The only justice here has been due to the actions of my niece, who remained in Hikmet for weeks to seek justice for her cousin, all but forcing your governor's hand.” D’Orsay drew himself up, looking truly fearsome. “Do you truly wish to engage in war on two fronts? I am well aware of the recent events in the war between Theleme and your own nation, and that the Battle of al-Habda did not go well for the Bridge. Would you drive the Congregation into the arms of Theleme?”

“That is why I am here, Serene Highness: to attempt to avert a war and produce a rapprochement in the relations between the Bridge Alliance and our allies in the Congregation of Merchants.” The emissary swallowed hard, adjusting his turban with sweaty palms. “For the death of your son and heir, the Bridge is offers our sincerest apologies, and—”

“Empty words? Emptier promises? I had expected more.”

“You will have it. The sultan is prepared to offer significant reparations to the Congregation: the remission of tariffs and port taxes for a period of time, the concessions that you had requested in our last—”

D’Orsay slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne. “Do you think I held my son's life so cheaply?” If de Sardet hadn’t known her uncle so well, she would have thought his fury genuine, born from grief. “Trade concessions? Remission of tariffs?”

“That is not all,” the emissary said hastily. “We are prepared to offer a significant sum of gold. Ten thousand dirhams as the blood price for his life, as a sign of our regret, as well as the immediate repayment of the debt currently owed by the sultan to House d’Orsay.”

D’Orsay settled back in his chair; the preternatural calm that came over him told de Sardet that his fury had been a ruse. “That might settle the Bridge’s debt to House d’Orsay, but what of the debt you owe to the Congregation itself? Had he lived, my son would have been the next Prince d’Orsay. I believe he would have led the Congregation itself. New Serene was certainly flourishing under his care.”

“It was,” de Sardet spoke up, unable to remain silent. “Constantin had such plans for the city.” The tears that came to her eyes were entirely genuine. “He did not deserve to die in that way. The weeks of suffering…”

“Suffering that you would also have subjected my niece to, I might remind you,” d’Orsay spoke up. “Asili attempted to poison them both. That his attempt failed was due merely to chance. After seeing her mother die from the malichor, she was also forced to watch her cousin undergo the same slow, painful death, knowing that she too would have been subjected to their fate had his plot succeeded. What reparations are due the Princess de Sardet?" De Sardet blinked; the title still made her think of her mother, not herself. “You owe reparations not only to the House d’Orsay, but the House de Sardet and the entire Congregation. Until the Bridge Alliance proposes a settlement that can satisfy us all, I will be forced to reconsider our position with regards to our alliance. As Cardinal Antonius has recently been recalled, I have asked Theleme to send a new ambassador. They ought to be here within the month. I would reconsider your proposal carefully before then.”

“What…what would you propose, Your Serene Highness?”

A sharpness came into d’Orsay’s eyes: triumph mixed with a predatory avarice. The sight reminded de Sardet of a wolf closing in on its prey. “I would suggest a payment to House de Sardet, as an apology for the attempt on the legate’s life. I would also suggest that certain debts owed by various noble houses of the Congregation be forgiven. Finally, I believe that there are one or two houses that presently owe a child to the Nauts; perhaps the Bridge would be willing to provide those children. That is, of course, in addition to the terms that you have previously offered to House d’Orsay and the Congregation of Merchants at large.”

“Complete forgiveness of debts owed by the merchant-princes… _all_ of the princes?” 

“You speak as if there were hundreds of noble houses, rather than a few dozen. I know the sums involved; they are not staggering.”

“I believe that Your Serene Highness’s definition of ‘staggering’ may differ from mine…” The emissary took a handkerchief from his pocket, daubing his forehead. “Such terms will have to be presented to my superiors in Al Saad, of course…”

“Of course.”

The emissary bowed. “Thank you for your time, Your Serene Highness. I shall return to my chambers and write to Al Saad directly.”

“Very well.” D’Orsay raised his hand in a gesture of dismissal, and the entire delegation backed away slowly. “My dear niece. I hope that was not too painful for you.”

“It was not unbearable,” she managed.

_My dear niece._ The words sounded so different from when Constantin had called her _my dear cousin_ ; Constantin’s words had always been backed by genuine affection. De Sardet had to wonder if Augustin d’Orsay had felt genuine affection for anyone since Helena and Sebastien d’Orsay’s deaths. _Did he truly love his first wife and son?_ Constantin had thought so; he had sometimes said that he thought his father's ability to love had died with his first family. 

“I know your affection for your cousin was truly filial. He always viewed you as a younger sister.”

“He was as a brother to me,” de Sardet agreed. “His loss still pains me.”

_Did he love Constantin?_ Her mother had insisted that Augustin d’Orsay had genuinely loved his second son, but Alexandra de Sardet had always doubted it...as, more heartbreakingly, had Constantin himself. Even Jeanne de Sardet had acknowledged that her brother had been a different person when his first wife and son had been alive, and that their deaths had taken a piece of him that had never been restored. _Was she his_ minundhanem _?_ By all accounts, Helena d’Orsay had been a gentle soul, quiet and uninterested in the Congregation’s ruthless politics and scheming; she had been beloved by many for her refusal to join in the endless intrigues of the court. _Two people who were so very unlike, yet entirely in love, sharing everything, each bringing out the best part of the other…_ If she thought of her uncle’s first marriage in that light, she could pity him.

But then she thought of his second marriage, of Heloise d’Orsay’s scheming and neglect, and of Augustin’s disdain for Constantin, and all sympathy evaporated. _He may have needed an heir, but he never cared for Constantin. His life would have been so different if he had ever showed him even a hint of affection._ Even now, her uncle was feigning affection only because it suited him to do so. _He'll pretend to love him now, when it's too late, because it gives him political advantage to do so._

“His loss pains me as well, dear niece. It is truly a loss to the entirety of the Congregation, but most of all to those of us who knew and loved him best. No reparations can restore him to us, but we will carry on as best we can.” The prince paused, and de Sardet had to wonder if his words were meant to be a show for her, or for the lords and ladies who might overhear the conversation. “I understand that you managed to maintain good relations with the Bridge Alliance even after you discovered evidence of the poisoning. Not only did you return to Hikmet to gather evidence for the trial, but you aided in its defense after my son’s actions resulted in an attack on our allies.”

“I did,” de Sardet agreed. It took her a moment to realize, “That emissary never mentioned the attacks. If they had wanted, they could have brought up the damage that Constantin’s actions wrought upon Hikmet. Doctor Asili’s actions may have constituted an act of war, but he was a private citizen, and the Bridge disavowed any knowledge of his actions. As governor of New Serene, Constantin’s actions cannot be so easily disavowed.”

“Except that you already have disavowed them,” d’Orsay pointed out. “Moreover, you made no attempt to conceal his guilt, and made every attempt to mend relations with our allies, placing your own life at risk to defend their interests. When you discovered that he was responsible for those acts of aggression against our allies, you immediately admitted the fact to both Governor Burhan and Mother Cardinal Cornelia, without any attempt at concealing the truth. I understand that you not only disavowed his actions, but raised an alliance to stop him, when in his madness he sought to attempt some native ritual that would have violated the natives' sanctuaries and destroyed our relations with those same natives beyond repair.” He looked past de Sardet. “Major Kurt,” he said, and de Sardet’s heart jumped despite herself. “Step forward, please.”

Kurt, who had been standing several steps behind de Sardet, came to stand at her side. “According to the dispatches I have received from Acting Governor de Morange, when you accompanied my niece to Anemhaid, she commanded you to remain behind to fight alongside soldiers of the Bridge Alliance, in the hopes that your stand there might gain her the time she needed to stop my son.”

“I volunteered, Your Serene Highness.”

“You were quite the hero, as I understand. ‘The Hero of Dorhadgenedu,’ Acting Governor de Morange says...a title given to you not by her, but by those who fought alongside you there. Her reports state that you performed several conspicuous acts of valor, including saving the life of your commander, the commanding officer of the Bridge Alliance’s forces, and several others among your compatriots, at great personal risk to yourself. She said also that you were injured in that action, but refused treatment until after you had found my niece and ensured that she was seen to.”

De Sardet had to keep from smiling as Kurt’s face began to flush. “My orders were to protect Legate de Sardet and Governor d’Orsay. I was only doing my duty – and poorly, at that, since I couldn’t save His Highness.” He grimaced. “Governor d’Orsay died, Legate de Sardet was nearly killed, and they were only there because I didn’t stop Asili from trying to kill them in the first place. I never imagined someone would try to kill them that way, when they’d barely set foot on shore.” Pain flickered in his eyes, and de Sardet knew he was blaming himself all over again. "Poison. There's no honor in that, and there was no reason for anyone to try. His Highness had no enemies on the island; he knew no one on the island. But I still failed him - failed both of them," he said. "It was only luck that saved Her Excellency." 

D’Orsay waved a hand. “You’re too hard on yourself, Major. The Coin Guard protects from physical threats: assassinations, brigands, wild animals on the roads. I have never expected the Coin Guard to protect against poison. You were my son's master-at-arms; surely, you know there is the proper defense for every attack. I would no more expect a member of the Coin Guard to protect against poison than I would expect my food taster to defend me against rioters or assassins. ” He looked to de Sardet. “Your reports have offered no complaints. What is your assessment of the major’s service?”

“Kurt _is_ far too hard on himself,” said de Sardet. “He has saved my life more times than I can count, at great personal risk to himself. His role in thwarting the Coin Guard’s attempted coup alone went above and beyond what anyone could have expected. I owe him my life many times over, and Constantin’s as well. It is true that he could not save Constantin from the malichor, but neither could I.” Despite herself, she could not keep the pain from her face as she said, “When we discovered his sickness, I swore to him I would find a cure. If only I had.”

“There’s nothing you could have done, Green Blood,” Kurt spoke up. “You did your best.”

“Indeed,” said the Prince d’Orsay. “Neither of you had any reason to be suspicious of the palace staff. Even I have been known to take medicine from my personal physicians without question. If anything, the failure is Lady de Morange’s; oversight of the palace staff was her domain, and the responsibility for a taster ought to have been hers.”

“I do not know that anyone could have foreseen this,” de Sardet interrupted. “After the poisoning, we investigated, and found that Lady de Morange was innocent. She had no knowledge of the doctor’s plans.”

“Innocence and ignorance are not the same thing,” d’Orsay replied. “Her negligence contributed to Constantin’s death. It was her responsibility to oversee the palace staff.”

“Even so, I would not see her punished. She was fond of Constantin.”

“I would not go that far. Laurine de Morange may have been impressed by Constantin’s unexpected diligence, but he still usurped her place…what I believe she still sees as her rightful place,” he said. “The next governor will have to contend with her disappointed hopes.”

“Then you do not intend to keep her as governor?”

“She is acting governor for a reason,” d’Orsay replied. “She has already served as governor for five years, and will likely have an additional year's term as interim governor before her replacement can arrive on Teer Fradee; I would prefer not to give her the chance to make the island the private domain of House de Morange. I will appoint a new governor soon…though perhaps not too soon. I would prefer to consider my options.”

He gave de Sardet an appraising look, and de Sardet wondered if he was indeed planning to make her the new governor. _It would be better than staying here,_ she thought, but it wasn’t entirely a welcome thought: she remembered Constantin’s complaining about the restrictions of his position, the constraints of his power, the constant demands made on his time.

_Still, I would rather be Governor de Sardet of New Serene than Princess de Sardet of Serene,_ she thought. _I could continue my work there, reach out to the natives, work with High King Dunncas._ She knew how to handle Mother Cardinal Cornelia and Governor Burhan, and she had the respect of Admiral Cabral and Commander Sieglinde. _It wouldn’t be entirely bad._

She returned her uncle’s look, wondering what he intended. _Does he intend to make me his heir?_ His comments the night before seemed to discount that possibility, but de Sardet could easily think of another: _Does he intend to name me his heir, to draw the assassination attempts to me while setting up his true heir? He will remarry and attempt to produce a new heir, but he won’t have placed all his hopes in an infant not yet born, not when that child may well turn out to be another disappointment, or when he may well die before that child reaches adulthood._ Augustin d’Orsay’s first son had been born before he was twenty, but there had been nearly twenty years between Sebastien and Constantin, and Constantin had been twenty-six at the time of his death.

 _He is already an old man; even if he sires an heir, can he hold on until they can take power? Or will he marry another wife who can serve as a fearsome regent?_ De Sardet knew that, even with the suspicious circumstances of Heloise d’Orsay’s death, there were many women who would be willing to marry Augustin d’Orsay, first among princes of the Congregation of Merchants. There were other options, she knew: _Does he intend to play the kingmaker, and marry me to whoever he intends to adopt as his heir? Does he intend to make me governor of New Serene, and pass power to someone else here?_ She wished she knew.

Those thoughts passed through her mind in a moment: she blinked, and d’Orsay looked to Kurt. “Of course, you will be welcome to retain your post, Major – unless you would prefer to return to Serene, that is. I feel that I ought to offer the Hero of Dorhadgenedu some reward for his valor, and Teer Fradee is hardly a prestigious posting.”

“I’m no hero, Your Highness,” Kurt protested. “The only heroes that day were the ones who died on the field.” He paused. “And your niece.”

D’Orsay raised an eyebrow. “For what, pray? I understand that she mustered the alliance, but all she did was ascend to the sanctuary, where she found that my son had already attempted to harness native magics that he lacked the power to secure, and had died from the botched performance of that ritual or the strain of the malichor.”

“I—” Kurt paused, clearly caught off-guard. “She nearly gave her life that day, trying to stop him. She was responsible for bringing everyone on the island together: the Coin Guard and the Nauts, Theleme and the Bridge Alliance, all the islands’ clans. If we hadn’t had every able-bodied fighter from all those factions, we all might have died. She might not have been able to save Constantin, but bringing all those factions together is still an achievement that deserves respect – and bringing them together has meant peace for the island.”

The Prince D’Orsay inclined his head, apparently satisfied, but de Sardet still felt uneasy. “Such an achievement certainly deserves recognition,” he agreed, then turned his attention back to de Sardet. “You are the Princess de Sardet, I intend on announcing you as such tonight, at the banquet that will be given to celebrate your return. I trust that you have no objections to being so honored?”

“None,” she replied, but her mind was racing. _Is this some prelude to trying to marry me off to a prince’s son? Or are you trying to position me for some other reason?_ The Prince d’Orsay moved every person in his court as if they were pieces on a chessboard, and he never limited himself to one stratagem. _A hundred different plots with a thousand different possibilities and a plan for every outcome._ She thought of the dizzying array of branching futures that had stretched before her during the ritual in Credhenes: the Prince d’Orsay did not have godlike powers to see the future, but she knew he would have valued such a power beyond price.

“Then I would suggest that you prepare for the banquet. I see you have found your wardrobe.”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’m glad to see they still fit well enough, though some alterations would not go amiss,” he said. “It looks tight around the arms and loose in the back. You seem to have put on muscle since you left – a combination of the island diet and the use of your skills, I am sure. Well, I suppose if you grow lax in your training, the tailor can visit again.”

“Or I can spend more time in the training yard,” she suggested.

“I’ll be happy to spar with you, Green Blood,” said Kurt. “It’ll be like old times.”

Again, she felt Augustin d’Orsay’s eyes on them, but de Sardet didn’t think that either of them had betrayed anything more than the relationship they’d had when they’d left for Teer Fradee: a mentor fond of his student, and a noblewoman fond of her bodyguard. “I do wish to keep my skills up,” she said, hoping to convince her uncle that was the case. “I hope that in the future, I will not need them nearly so often, but there will always be wild animals on the island, even if we are able to rid the roads of bandits and highwaymen.”

“The roads of Teer Fradee are often dicey,” Kurt agreed.

But her uncle did not respond to the bait, and as a lord from a lesser house approached, she took the opportunity to retreat, Kurt following. Again, she didn’t dare speak to Kurt until they were well away from the Hall of Merchants; she waited until they had passed by half a dozen courtiers and servants before saying a word.

“I’ll have to meet with the tailor,” she said, frustrated. “Another day wasted. I want to talk to him about the _doneigada_ , but there’s never an opportunity.”

“Slow down, Green Blood! We just got here. Did you think you’d be on a ship back within the week?”

“I could hope,” she admitted. “I wish I knew what my uncle was planning.”

“What isn’t he planning? He always has half a hundred plans. You’ll find out soon enough, I’d wager. This banquet tonight.”

“I know,” de Sardet said. “Will you be there?”

“As a guest, not as your guard. I got that news last night.” Kurt frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“He wants to honor the Hero of Dorhadgenedu,” said de Sardet.

“Who he doesn’t blame at all for Constantin’s death? I was the captain of his guard. If he wants to punish someone, my head should be first on the block.”

“He knows how much he owes you for your actions against Commander Torsten during the coup. He is right about the fortifiers, you know: none of us could have questioned the doctors. Lady de Morange herself gave Constantin his.”

“Even so, I don’t like it,” said Kurt.

“Because you think it portends some evil, or because you still blame yourself?” De Sardet sighed. “You saw how he reacted with that emissary. He isn’t grieving at all. He’s using the pretense of grief as a cloak for his true ambitions. It doesn’t suit him to blame you, any more than it does for him to blame me, and so we both emerge unscathed.”

“You were never to blame. We both know what happened, but it wasn’t your fault.” Kurt lifted a hand, but let it fall to his side with a look of frustration. He looked around to ensure that no one else was present in the length of the hall before whispering through gritted teeth, “I wish I could hold you, propriety be damned.”

“I wish you could, too.” It took all her self-control to keep from reaching up to brush a hand against his cheek. “I know I’m not to blame, Kurt. Constantin’s death…I know I couldn’t have stopped it. Stopped _him_. I couldn’t have saved him, but it doesn’t make this any easier.”

She stopped walking; they had reached her room. “I’ll see you tonight.”


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of her day was consumed in the sort of courtly nothings that she had always loathed: trying on the entirety of her new wardrobe with a tailor present, being stitched into new alterations, choosing the outfit she would wear that night. A dressmaker followed the tailor, presenting selections of silks and brocades with a note from her uncle saying that she ought to have new clothing made for her stay in Serene, and again she had to shudder as she wondered how long he intended her to stay. She chose several fabrics for dresses, but before the woman could leave, she added several doublets and pairs of leggings to the order, promising payment of her own for the additional orders.

After the dressmaker, it was a jeweler: she had no intention of taking off the pendant and ring that facilitated her magic, but she had no objections to adding several pieces. In a moment of inspiration, she decided to wear several rings, knowing that her plain gold wedding band would draw no scrutiny if it was one of several rings on her hand. Bracelets, earrings, hairpins, and coronets followed: she placed orders for each of them, the jeweler duly expressing his gratitude. The cobbler came last: here, she was happy to place new orders for custom-fitted leather boots that would serve her well on Teer Fradee, which made the fitting of new dancing shoes rather less onerous. In truth, she didn’t mind it nearly as much as the dress fittings: she’d always loved dancing, if not the formality of such occasions, and she found herself hoping that her uncle might hold a ball or two before she returned home.

Only after all the merchants had gone did she notice that her maidservant was hauling an enormous jewelry box into the room. “That’s my mother’s,” she said.

“Yes, Your Excellency. I know you’ve ordered jewels, but they won’t be ready for tonight, and I thought you might want to use some of hers. They’re yours now, after all.”

Jeanne de Sardet had loved jewelry, and the box had been a source of fascination for Alexandra de Sardet in her youth: her mother had clearly cherished each piece, and had often allowed young Alexandra to wear a piece as a reward for some particular accomplishment. Alexandra had appreciated that more as a sign of her mother’s love than from a love of jewels, but she cherished each and every piece now because of it. “Let me look,” she said. Pulling open the box, she found herself fingering various pieces: the strand of pearls that had been her mother’s favorite, a gold and sapphire pin in the shape of a bluebird that Alexandra herself had loved, the silver signet ring that had been emblazoned with Jeanne de Sardet’s personal seal.

“I’ll wear these,” she said, taking out a pair of pearl-and-diamond earrings that she knew her mother had loved. She had already selected a blue dress that was nearly the same shade as her eyes; she chose a magnificent sapphire to fix to her dress, another chain of smaller sapphires that sparkled like stars, and another of opal and diamond. She lifted her mother’s pearls, but could not bring herself to put them on: they were too much her mother’s, too close to her heart. Closing her eyes, she pressed them to her lips and carefully packed them away again, a few tears slipping from her eyes despite her best efforts.

“Your Excellency might wish to visit her tomb,” suggested the maidservant. “I know you may not have time today, but in the days to come, I am sure you would be glad to see it. His Serene Highness spared no expense in her funeral, and he hired a sculptor who came all the way from Theleme to create the effigy.”

“Yes, thank you.”

She let the servant dress her; another fixed her hair and placed jeweled combs in it, pinning it up, while another brought out a veritable painter’s kit of cosmetics. De Sardet allowed the first two but refused the last as best she could: she had no desire for the paints, rouges, and powders that were so popular among so many members of the court, and refused again more angrily when the woman suggested trying to cover the mark on her cheek somehow. The servant insisted on applying a measure of kohl to her eyes and a small bit of tint to her lips. Even those small concessions made her grimace: in small part because it made her think of how much of the court was artifice and disguise, people trying to conceal secrets and appear to be everything they were not, but largely because she couldn't help but remember her hated aunt commenting on how no amount of powder or flesh-colored paste could cover the birthmark that spread across her cheek and neck. "You can do everything in your power to try to hide the truth, but it will be of no use in the end," Heloise d'Orsay had been fond of saying to her sister-in-law, always in front of Alexandra herself. It had, of course, been a veiled reference to Alexandra de Sardet's true heritage; Heloise d'Orsay had often followed those remarks with a comment about how no lord of the Congregation would ever take her for a wife, or occasionally with a pointed remark about how de Sardet's resemblance to her father. When the Princess de Sardet wasn't nearby, she could be even crueler, telling Alexandra de Sardet that she would never find a husband willing to take her because of her mark.

 _She knew the truth, and hated me for it._ Alexandra de Sardet still didn't understand why her aunt had despised her: if it was because the Princess d'Orsay and the Princess de Sardet had never liked one another and her enmity had extended from mother to daughter, or if Heloise d'Orsay hated having to pretend that a savage of Teer Fradee was her niece, or if she had been worried that the closeness between Alexandra de Sardet and her son would someday ruin her plans for Constantin, but Heloise d'Orsay had always been cruel. 

"Aren't you pleased, Your Excellency? You seem unhappy." Her maidservant anxiously tilted a mirror in her direction. "I think the colors are becoming on you. Nothing too obvious or garish." 

"It's fine," de Sardet said, then mustered her best smile, seeing how worried she was. _It was always rumored that my aunt poisoned the servants who displeased her._ She was fairly sure Constantin had started that particular rumor; she wasn't entirely certain of its truth, but she could believe it. _Even if it isn't true, it's well-known that my uncle is less than kind to servants who displease him._ The Prince d'Orsay wasn't the sort of man to wantonly kill servants who displeased him, or even to physically harm them in any way, but he paid well for his servants' loyalty, and those who displeased him were dismissed without reference or pension. _Given how difficult it would be to find another position, and how much poverty and want there is in the city, losing her position could kill her. I_ _don't want her thinking that she's in any danger from me._ "I am not unhappy with you, I promise. Only...preoccupied." She paused. "Returning to Serene is more difficult than I thought it would be. I miss my mother very much." 

That earned glances of sympathy from all of the women, and seemed to put them at ease. To further placate them, de Sardet let her bring out an array of perfumes and scents, choosing the one she liked best: it was light and floral, but not overwhelmingly so. “Honeysuckle and violets,” one of them said when she pointed at the vial. Her mother had preferred a scent that mingled citrus and spice; Jeanne de Sardet had always smelled of orange oil and cloves. _Though at the end, even the spice could not cover the smell of death._

The thought made her sad, and she pushed it away as her attendants slipped on her shoes for her, straightened her collar, and attempted to persuade her into letting them paint her face one final time. _Constantin would have let them,_ she thought. He’d never been averse to the paints and powders, though once he’d faced his father’s wrath when he’d let them paint beauty marks on his face and gone a bit overboard. _He thought he looked so distinguished._

With a start, she realized it would be the first time she’d been to a banquet without Constantin. _I always had to try to keep an eye on him._ Constantin had always been prone to getting overly drunk and being too free with his remarks. She’d learned diplomacy early because of it: when to step in and lead him away, when to ask a lord to dance to keep Constantin from insulting him, how best to apologize for him before he caused a diplomatic incident or was challenged to a duel. Eventually, she’d learned how to shape his remarks into something he hadn’t intended before an apology became necessary, developing a talent for turning his careless comments into compliments. 

_I miss him._ Her need to watch over him had sometimes taken away from her enjoyment of the festivities, but she would have given anything for another night of having to serve as his minder. _I always loved these gatherings more than he did._ Constantin had enjoyed the finery and the trappings of splendor, but de Sardet had loved the conversation, the chance to learn more about the guests of honor. _But now, I’ll be the guest of honor._

When she was ready, she was surprised to see that Kurt wasn’t waiting for her outside her door; instead, another of the Coin Guard who’d accompanied them from Teer Fradee stood outside her door. “Lieutenant Gunther,” she said, glad she remembered his name.

“Major Kurt sent me, Your Excellency. As he’s been invited to the banquet, he couldn’t accompany you as your guard tonight.”

De Sardet nodded, feeling disappointed. “I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

“I will, Your Excellency. It is an honor.”

She made her way to the banquet hall: several tables were lined up down the length of the room, with one set horizontally at the far end. The Prince d’Orsay sat at that table, with the seat of honor beside him reserved for her. The seat on the opposite side of him was occupied by the Princess de Chatillon, one of his longtime allies; she was surprised not to see the emissary of the Bridge Alliance in that seat, as it was customary for foreign envoys to be granted a place at the prince’s table, but she knew immediately that her uncle was making a point. She saw Kurt placed at one of the tables along the center aisle, lower than any of the princes but above the lords who made up the lesser courtiers and merchant families of Serene: families like the Fontaines, Vaillancourts, and Beauforts, who lacked the noble standing of the ancient princely families.

“Princess Alexandra de Sardet, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants on Teer Fradee,” the major-domo announced. The room turned as one to look, and she made her way down the center aisle to the place of honor at her uncle’s side. She caught sight of Kurt for just a moment, but knew she couldn’t let her gaze linger; quickly, she moved her eyes forward.

Her uncle was resplendent in blue and gold, the colors of the Congregation, and he looked approvingly at her choice of dress. “Greetings, Your Highness,” he said, and again de Sardet couldn’t help but feel that the honorific was her mother’s. “Perhaps you remember Sir de Renaud,” he continued, and she looked to see the person who would be sitting on her opposite side that night: not an elderly prince of the Congregation, as she’d fully expected, but a man scarcely older than herself.

“But of course,” she said, her mind churning with unwelcome possibilities. “You’re Henri de Renaud.” _Isabelle’s brother,_ she wanted to say, thinking of the girl who’d always plagued her at Court. _Luc's friend._ He had been a companion of Sir de Papillon, her first love; she had been head over heels, but Luc de Papillon had only sought to seduce the niece of the Prince d'Orsay for political gain. _He knows the truth._

Henri de Renaud flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

She returned the same insincere smile. “How could I forget?" She had overheard de Papillon telling him about her naivete, his total lack of regard, his hopes for the future. _He laughed._ He hadn't laughed after de Sardet had furiously confronted them, casting stasis spells on each of them before breaking de Papillon's nose. After that, he'd stayed well away from her, thankfully remaining silent about her affair, which would have terribly harmed her reputation had it become known. _Would it still ruin my marital prospects, or is the prospective heir of the Prince d'Orsay too appealing a bride?_ She suspected the answer was the former; otherwise, she might almost have wanted de Renaud to reveal the truth. _A scandal would be worth it if it meant my uncle would accept my marriage more easily._ De Sardet no longer cared about her reputation in Serene; all she wanted was to return to New Serene with Kurt at her side. _If anything, I'd like to preserve enough of my reputation to remain in some position that would allow me to ensure that the Congregation doesn't repeat its mistakes on Teer Fradee, but I don't care what they think or say of me here._

"I would like to think myself unforgettable, I must admit," de Renaud preened. "Your face, of course, is impossible to forget." 

De Sardet eyed him warily, wondering if he had meant it to be insult, compliment, or insult disguised as compliment. Given his friendship with Luc de Papillon and blood relation to her childhood nemesis, she suspected the last. "I am a diplomat, Sir de Renaud," she said. "I would make a poor legate if I failed to remember faces and names, particularly those I have known for such a long time." 

"I hope to get to know you better," he said, and she wondered if she had judged him wrongly.

_I don't know which would be worse: if he's trying to compliment me so he can court me, or trying to insult me because of the past._ "You will certainly have the chance. It would make for a poor dinner if we did not make some sort of conversation." 

The dinner actually passed more easily than she would have thought: her uncle wasn’t about to discuss any matters of import at a dinner where all eyes were upon them, and instead asked her to regale them with talk of the island. She spoke of the natives, answering questions from de Renaud, her uncle, and de Chatillon about their customs, language, and way of life. “In fact,” she said, “I have brought a native delegation back to Serene as a gesture of good faith by High King Dunncas, who hopes that he can help us find a way to cure the malichor.”

She saw immediately from the narrowing of her uncle’s eyes that he didn’t like the surprise, but he showed no other signs of disapproval.

Henri de Renaud, on the other hand, reacted with immediate derision. “What could a bunch of native savages have to teach us? You say their villages are quite primitive. What could they know of medicine?”

“One native healer was able to brew a number of medicines that eased my cousin’s pain,” de Sardet replied. She paused, hating the lie, but forced it from her lips. “While he could not cure the malichor, he was able to relieve Constantin’s pain in a way that neither a renowned holy man from Saint Matheus nor the best physician in Hikmet were able to do.”

“The best physician in Hikmet? I thought that Doctor Asili was the one who poisoned him,” said de Renaud. De Sardet, too shocked to reply, could only stare at him in disbelief.

“He was,” the Prince d’Orsay said icily, and de Renaud knew immediately that he’d made a misstep. “I believe that the Princess de Sardet is referring to Doctor Sahar al-Batani, another physician of some renown. She has done extraordinary work with herbal medicine, although she has not focused on the malichor." 

“Yes,” de Sardet managed. “I was indeed referring to Doctor al-Batani.” 

“My apologies, Your Highness,” said de Renaud, then nodded to de Sardet. “Highnesses.” 

“The island has a number of native plants and animals like nothing I’ve ever seen,” said de Sardet. “Perhaps one of them will prove effective.”

“I cannot blame you for hoping, Your Highness,” said de Chatillon. “I lost my husband to the malichor. It is a terrible disease.”

“The natives believe that it might be a poisoning, of a kind. That we have poisoned our lands and waters, and that the malichor is caused when we ingest the food and drink produced by such polluted lands. They have ways of healing the land that they may be able to teach us.”

“What do they ask in return?” d’Orsay asked.

“Nothing.”

“No one ever asks for nothing,” de Renaud scoffed. “Unless they truly are simpletons.”

“They would like our aid in ensuring that they are not abducted and experimented upon by the scientists of the Bridge, nor by our own unscrupulous merchants. They would also like to ensure that they are granted the freedom of their own religion, and that we stand with them in resisting attempts at forcible conversion from Theleme. Finally, they would like to trade freely with us, as equal partners, and have their ownership of their lands and country respected. I believe that all of these are reasonable requests.”

“I would certainly agree,” said de Chatillon. She lifted a fork to her mouth; after she had swallowed, she added, “Though certainly they cannot hope that we will aid them militarily against either the Bridge or Theleme. Despite your uncle’s seeming eagerness to antagonize the Bridge’s emissary, I would hope that we would behave with greater moderation.”

“I know you have always supported the Bridge, Colette,” d’Orsay replied.

"In moderation. I have not supported giving up our independence to join with them entirely, as some of my friends do. Which is why I am here tonight, I think." De Chatillon smiled. "You show favor to someone who favors the Bridge Alliance to balance seating Sir de Renaud at this table, and in doing so make them fear that you may sway me from my allegiances. Moreover, you give an insult to the Bridge Alliance by seating me here instead of their representative."

"Not an insult," d'Orsay corrected her. "A warning." 

De Chatillon smiled. "Which is why I accepted your invitation. I do believe that the Bridge Alliance requires reminding that the Congregation of Merchants is not an ally to be taken for granted. I have no desire to let the fanatics of Theleme rule over us...no offense intended, Sir de Renaud, as I know your belief in the Enlightened is most fervent."

"House de Renaud supports Theleme as entirely as House de Chatillon favors the Bridge," de Renaud said tightly.

"Your support for Theleme is far more absolute than my own support for the Bridge Alliance, for I do not wish the Congregation to become merely one of many kingdoms within the Bridge...a mere province, instead of an independent country." De Chatillon sipped her wine. "Yet I would hope that the Congregation can avoid war. The actions of this Doctor Asili are reprehensible, but they are the actions of one man, and I would hope that thousands would not be required to die for his crime." 

D'Orsay inclined his head. "Rest assured, I do not intend to abrogate our alliance with the Bridge; I simply wish to negotiate more favorable terms.”

“Terms,” de Renaud said, frowning. “Might I remind you that the Bridge Alliance is responsible for your son’s death, sir?”

“Sir?”

“Your Serene Highness,” de Renaud amended quickly, but it was too late: de Sardet could see he’d incurred the frigidity of her uncle’s wrath.

“I am well aware that the Bridge Alliance is to blame for the late Governor d’Orsay’s affliction. Rest assured they will pay dearly for it – but in coin, not on the battlefield. The strength of the Congregation of Merchants has never been in military might. Do you think we could afford open conflict?”

“With Theleme’s support—”

“Theleme would use and discard us, and demand our conversion to their precious Enlightened en masse. Freedom of religion is a time-honored tenet of the Congregation; men may worship whatever god they wish or no god at all, so long as they do not harm others. I will not invite the Ordo Luminis into Serene, nor will I have public burnings of living men in the Prince’s Place to join the dead who are burned daily.”

Henri de Renaud might have been a fool, but he was certainly courageous: where other men might have quailed, he soldiered on. “Might I remind you that you have lost more than a son,” he said. “My beloved sister, Lady Isabelle, was intended to marry your son upon his return from Teer Fradee. Isabelle has lost her intended, and my mother and father have lost a son as well – well, the man who was to be their son.”

De Sardet nearly dropped her fork. “Constantin was not aware,” she said. “You chose to give his hand in marriage without his consent?”

“Certainly not,” said d’Orsay. He shot a severe look at de Renaud. “You go too far. I know that the Princess d’Orsay and the Princess de Renaud were plotting the match, but it was not formalized, nor was it ever formally announced.”

“Not formalized? They were ready to have the contract drawn up. The Princess d’Orsay provided her assurances—”

“The Princess d’Orsay is cold in the ground,” d’Orsay replied icily. “As is my son.”

“When were you intending to tell him?” She looked to de Renaud. “When was the contract drawn up? Did you know that Constantin had the malichor?”

“If we had, the marriage would certainly have been called off,” de Renaud replied. “I believe that the Princess d’Orsay and my mother had discussed it even before he left for Teer Fradee, but the true negotiations began in earnest just after your departure.” He leaned past her, looking at her uncle. “We had no idea that Constantin had contracted the malichor until his bones arrived in Serene. Did you know before that?”

“A few months before,” d’Orsay replied. “A single packet had arrived, in which Constantin informed me that the doctors of New Serene believed that he had contracted the malichor. I had hoped to hear their diagnosis was wrong. At that time, he had not begun to show any of the characteristic signs; malaise, a pale complexion, and some troubles of the bowels were the only symptoms until then, and those might have been attributed to the change in diet or climate.”

“As he did initially,” de Sardet murmured. She looked to her uncle. “I still cannot believe that you would have arranged his marriage without his consent. Were you planning to send Lady Isabelle to Teer Fradee to surprise him?”

“I would have sent orders to recall him from the island,” d’Orsay said. “You are aware that his posting there was only ever to be temporary. Three to five years, I had thought when I sent him away, though his mother would have preferred one to two.”

“That was to be part of the negotiations,” de Renaud said.

“Was he to have no say in it? No choice?”

“What choice do any of us ever have?” de Renaud asked, and de Sardet suddenly had a horrible feeling that he had been invited to sit beside her for more than her uncle’s usual reasons of state.

 _De Chatillon and de Renaud counterbalance each other at the table for the pro-Bridge and pro-Theleme factions, but it should be the Princess de Renaud at the table, not her son._ The Prince de Renaud still lived, but he was an elderly dotard who spent most of his days asleep, his memory gone; it was the Princess de Renaud who was the power in the family, and everyone knew it. _Henri was always privy to his mother’s plans, but never a prime mover of them._ Unconsciously, her hand went to the finger that wore her wedding ring, and she found herself spinning it on her finger. _Why else would my uncle summon him to sit at my side?_

“Constantin always knew he would marry for reasons of state,” said d’Orsay. “He knew he would have no choice. He was willing to accept that.”

“As must we all,” said de Renaud. His eyes fell upon the mark on her cheek, and she could practically feel his revulsion. “Whatever sacrifices we must make for matters of state or alliances between our houses, we must make.”

“You forget, Sir de Renaud,” she said. “I am the head of my house, and old enough to have control over my own fate. The decision is mine.” She felt her uncle’s eyes on her then, but she refused to look at him. “It is not a decision I would make lightly.”

“Not lightly, perhaps, but one you must make nonetheless,” de Renaud rejoined. “Twenty-five and unwed? For a man, that is nothing, but for a woman…well, surely you must be grateful for any proposal?”

“How old is your sister?” De Sardet smiled sweetly. “Lady Isabelle is my age, I dare say. Actually, come to think of it, I believe she is somewhat older. Her birthday fell between mine and Constantin’s. If she had waited a year or two before the conclusion of the betrothal…or even three or five…and then the four months’ journey from Teer Fradee to Serene…were you terribly concerned about her, Sir de Renaud?”

“A match with the son of His Serene Majesty was worth waiting for,” de Renaud managed finally.

“Where I should be grateful to accept the first prince who asks for my hand?”

De Renaud had no answer ready.

“I think not,” she said. “I will decide who I am to wed, and when…and no matter my age, I doubt that I would ever be grateful for certain proposals.”

“Indeed,” said d’Orsay. Silence fell upon the table for a long moment, until the Princess de Chatillon took it upon herself to speak.

“I’m afraid that my only son is already wed, or I should be happy to offer to arrange a meeting between you,” she said crisply. “Jean was never the brightest, but I’m certain he would fare better than our young lord of the House of Renaud.”

The meal finished, and the Prince d’Orsay rose. “A toast,” he called out. “To my niece Alexandra, the new Princess de Sardet, who has come home to Serene.”

“I hope that you have enjoyed this banquet. May it be the first of many, as we celebrate the happier days that are to come. The Crystal Ballroom will be open for dancing.” As if cued by his words, strains of music began floating through the doors at the far end of the room. “Enjoy these festivities as we celebrate my niece’s safe return home.”

They toasted her, and as the prince sat, he turned to her. “I am well aware that you enjoy dancing. Enjoy yourself.” The other guests were rising from their seats: de Renaud had already beat a hasty exit from the table, looking abashed. At the top of one of the lower tables, de Sardet caught sight of the Princess de Renaud glowering at her son; apparently, she was well aware the evening had not gone well.

De Sardet rose, and her uncle caught her by the arm. “Wait a moment. I will escort you to the ballroom. The leader of the Congregation of Merchants should be among the last of those to enter a room.”

To her surprise, the Princess de Chatillon rose before either of them. “I’ve enjoyed the dinner, Your Serene Highness,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “It provided more amusement than I thought it would give. I particularly enjoyed seeing your niece cut that stripling down to size.” She looked to de Sardet. “Henri de Renaud is arrogant, far stupider than he thinks he is, and entirely ignorant about the world beyond Serene. One of those qualities would be annoying but manageable, especially by a woman as intelligent as yourself; all three are a dangerous combination. You will do better, I’m sure.”

“You aren’t just saying that because of the de Renauds’ connection to Theleme.”

“Not at all, my dear. Although if you wish to forge a closer alliance with the Bridge, I know of several noble scions I might introduce you to. Some might even be able to match your wit.”

De Sardet smiled, but replied, “I’m afraid I have no desire for a closer alliance with the Bridge at present, Your Highness.”

“Yes, well, I am aware that what Doctor Asili did may have soured you on that particular connection. Still, I must reassure you that not all citizens of the Bridge Alliance are so amoral. Perhaps you might speak with Ambassador Sahin, or with another member of their delegation.”

De Sardet looked to where Sahin was speaking with the delegation from the Bridge. “I believe I will speak with many people tonight,” she said noncommittally, thinking of the dealings she’d had with the ambassador before she’d left for Teer Fradee.

“I’m sure you will. Good night, Princess.”

D’Orsay waited until de Chatillon had left the table before he turned to her. “De Renaud is a fool, but I would like to keep at least the pretense of an alliance with his family.”

“You didn’t seem pleased with him,” she observed coolly.

“He tried my patience. I would have hoped that you would have leavened your own response with a measure of kindness.”

“Or false interest? Is that why you’ve recalled me to Serene, to try to force my marriage to Henri de Renaud since you cannot marry Constantin to Isabelle?”

“You are the Princess de Sardet,” d’Orsay replied. “Your marriage will be a matter of state. Whoever you wed, it will tilt the balance of power.” He paused. “I want to maintain the appearance of attempting to salvage the de Renaud alliance, but that was always Heloise’s pet project. I have no intent of following through...at least, not at the moment. If no better prospect presents itself, or if the negotiations with the Bridge Alliance sour, that may change. Which is why you ought to at least attempt a measure of kindness. If you do end up betrothed, I would prefer you not loathe each other.”

_It's far too late for that, in so many ways._ “Who do you intend for my bridegroom?”

“Why? Are you going to try to have them assassinated?” De Sardet’s eyes flashed, and d’Orsay amended, “A poor joke, in poorer taste. My apologies.”

“I’m not joking. How can you even think of marrying me off? You, who know the truth.” She didn’t go further, but touched the mark on her cheek. “Would you plan on telling my prospective husband?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” D’Orsay frowned. “These natives you say you have brought back with you…I know you wrote of bringing native healers. Would they—”

“Have the mark of the _on ol menawi_? Yes. Every one of them.” 

“That will make things more difficult.”

“Were you not intending to send me back to Teer Fradee? Any man would have realized once he set foot on the island. Or were you intending to leave me to deal with those consequences?”

“You should know that I have never had a single plan,” d’Orsay replied. “When it comes to the matter of your marriage, I have considered many possibilities, and many potential bridegrooms. I assume you knew it would never be Constantin?”

The remark was so casual that it filled her with rage. “Constantin was a brother to me,” she said. “I loved him, yes, but certainly not romantically. I can assure you, neither of us ever considered marriage.”

“He did, once.”

“He was _seven!_ ”

“He might have considered it again. You were always his dear cousin, his fair cousin, his lovely cousin…but you aren’t lying to me, are you?” D’Orsay searched her face. “No. You aren’t. Constantin might well have wished it, but you never did. Well, that removes one possible reason for this intransigence.”

“Intransigence? You manipulated my entire life, and now you’re surprised that I balk at this attempt at manipulation? No,” she said, and it was a struggle to keep her voice down: the room was nearly empty, the rest of the nobles crowded at the doorway across the room, but she hardly wanted to make a scene. “I will be very clear: I will not be married to any man of your choosing. This is my choice. You cannot make me – you will not make me.”

She expected her uncle to lash out, to threaten in his quiet way, but instead, he simply regarded her with those cool blue eyes. “You mean this.”

“Entirely. I am not a child, making empty protests; I meant what I said to Sir de Renaud. I am of age, I am the head of my own noble house, and my marriage is my decision.”

“And if you were not head of your house? If you were merely Alexandra of no house at all?”

“Aine of Vignamri?” she replied. “My home is on Teer Fradee. I would return there.” She hesitated, lifting a hand to her mother’s pin. “When you say ‘the Princess de Sardet,’ I still think of my mother. I have no attachment to the title, or to the power it holds. You cannot force me into marriage by threatening to take it from me. The revelation of the truth would hurt you more than it would hurt me.”

“Indeed,” said d’Orsay. He was silent for a long while then, contemplating something, but de Sardet didn’t know what. After a long moment, he said, “Your mother.”

De Sardet didn’t follow his thoughts. “What of her?” she asked, wondering if she meant Jeanne de Sardet or Arelwin of Vignamri.

“You are the Princess de Sardet, as your mother was before you,” he said. “I trust you won’t do anything rash – such as revealing certain truths in the open.”

“I have no reason to do so at this time.”

“If I promise you that I will give you the choice you seek, will you promise me never to reveal certain truths?”

De Sardet nodded. “Will you agree to meet with the _doneigada_ – the healers I’ve brought with me from Teer Fradee?”

“Privately, I think. They aren’t likely to do their work in the palace in any case, are they? They’ll want to meet with our healers.”

“Yes,” said de Sardet, thinking of Siora. _She would hate having to attend receptions at the palace._ Ignorant idiots like de Renaud would undoubtedly try to provoke her by calling her a savage, and while de Sardet might find it privately amusing to imagine Siora knocking de Renaud down with a flaming sword, she knew that they couldn’t afford to start relations off between their countries with a diplomatic incident.

“Give me a fortnight. It will give me time to assemble healers from Serene and some of the lesser cities of the Congregation. I’ll meet with them before the new ambassador from Theleme arrives.”

“Thank you,” said de Sardet.

D’Orsay nodded; the room had emptied. Only now did he rise, offering her his arm. She took it, listening to the strains of music that floated in from the ballroom, several rooms over. “Shall we go? You may have had enough of diplomacy for the evening.”

“As if I’ll do anything else the rest of the night. I trust you expect me to be polite to every young lord of the Congregation I see?”

“With the exception of Sir de Renaud? Perhaps.” D’Orsay eyed her. “You did hear that Sir de Papillon died of the malichor.”

“Yes,” she said carefully: while her first romance had been with Luc de Papillon, as far as she knew, her uncle wasn’t aware of the romance or of how badly it had ended. _He used me. He told me he loved me._ It had been a lie: he had bedded her in the hopes of wedding the niece of the Prince d’Orsay. _I found out the truth, and paid him back for it._ She wasn’t entirely proud of herself, but she’d left the lord bloodied and curled in a ball on the floor, heaving his guts out. _I saw him after that, of course, but only at a distance._ Not long afterwards, de Papillon had departed on a tour of the continent with several friends, and she’d been glad to see him go.

She’d told Kurt, but only after they’d begun their romance, and he was the only one she’d ever confided in. _Not Mother, not Constantin, and certainly not my uncle._ Despite the Prince d’Orsay’s intelligence network, despite all the eyes and ears within the palace, he had never showed any sign that he knew the truth.

Now, she couldn’t help but wonder. “It seems sudden,” she said. “The progression of Constantin’s disease was far faster than my mother’s, but I hadn’t heard of Sir de Papillon being ill before we left.”

“He had apparently had some constitutional symptoms, but had believed it to be a disease of a…different nature,” the prince said carefully. “He had been taking tincture of mercury and receiving regular bloodlettings. His deterioration led him to seek advice from his father, who took him to a different healer; it was then that they diagnosed the malichor. I believe that, all in all, it took him about two years to die. By the end, he was quite mad from the pain.”

“No one deserves to die like that,” she said. Again, she felt her uncle’s eyes on her, but again, he did not reveal his thoughts. _Does he think I was still in love with him?_ It was ridiculous enough that she could almost have laughed.

But thoughts of de Papillon led back to thoughts of the malichor, which led to thoughts of her mother. “I hope that my mother's suffering was not prolonged. I know she had to be in terrible pain, but…”

“Once you left for Teer Fradee, I summoned a healer to ease her pain. It was her particular request.”

“But no healer here could…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what he meant. “Mother died less than a month after I left for Teer Fradee.”

“Yes,” said the prince, his voice laden with meaning. “At first, she had thought to wait until she received news that you had safely reached the island. However, she soon realized that she could not wait the eight months or more that such a response would take.” He let out a long breath. “She passed from this life finally at peace. Her only sorrow was that she would not see you again.”

“I wish I could have been there.”

The prince’s voice was suddenly harsh. “She would not have had you there. If you had stayed, you would have condemned her to a death of slow suffering. It was a mercy that you left when you did; she did not deserve to endure such pain for as long as she did.”

“I’m sorry,” de Sardet whispered, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. _For her, for Constantin, for everything they went through. My heritage protected me, but it could not save them._ “I miss her so much. Both of them.”

She had half-expected the prince to respond in kind, but instead, he simply said, “Your mother was a remarkable woman. She is indeed missed.”

That was all: they passed into the ballroom, and the music momentarily stopped so the room could acknowledge them. After that, the prince let go of her hand, and she was alone in the ballroom.


	9. Chapter 9

She wanted nothing more than to seek out Kurt, but she was surrounded almost immediately with courtiers: everyone, it seemed, wanted to congratulate the new Princess de Sardet, ask some question about her time on Teer Fradee, or express their sincerest condolences about her cousin. She spent so much time talking to them that she had nearly lost any hope of having time to dance when she heard a familiar voice.

“Green Blood!” She whirled to see Kurt, her face lighting up in her first genuine smile of the evening. “Or should I say Your Highness?”

“Kurt! I mean, Major,” she said, and saw him smile in return.

“I’m surprised you recognized her,” another familiar voice came, and her smile grew wider.

“Vasco?”

“That’s Fleet Commander Vasco to you. Or Commodore Vasco, if you’d like to refer to me by my rank instead of my title. Apparently, that rank warrants an invitation to a fine gathering such as this one.”

“He’s been very popular with some of the ladies,” said Kurt.

“Certain fine ladies of the Court do seem to think that these tattoos are quite dashing. Exotic, I heard one say.”

“Whereas no one is very impressed by the former master-at-arms.”

“I certainly am.” She paused, looking around. “Is no one else here? Siora? Aphra?”

“I’m afraid that natives were not included in the invitation. Nor was a certain scholar of the Bridge Alliance.” Vasco inclined his head. “Our friend the major tells me that the Bridge Alliance is not presently in favor with the Congregation.”

“My uncle is using Constantin’s death as a pretext to extort whatever he can from them.” She frowned. “I had thought that he would have some measure of genuine grief, but he only seems to care about what he can gain from his death.” She looked around at the room. “Everyone here knew Constantin, but no one seems to mourn him. Even the boys he grew up with, who might have pretended friendship—”

“You were his only true friend,” Kurt said gently. “You know that.”

“I know,” she acknowledged. “It doesn’t make it any easier to see.”

“Do you have any idea of how long our stay might be?” asked Vasco. “Or whether or not your uncle intends to see Siora and her delegation soon?”

“A fortnight,” said de Sardet, and quickly informed them of much that had passed during the conversation at the dinner table: not the conversation regarding her marriage prospects or Henri de Renaud’s foolishness in that regard, but everything that had transpired regarding the back-and-forth over the Bridge Alliance, her uncle’s plans for the immediate future, and her own plans to introduce Siora and the others.

“I wish I could forget it all,” she sighed. “If only for tonight.”

Kurt looked at her. “Would you like to dance?” he asked. “If you’ll accept the hand of a lowly major of the Coin Guard—”

“I already have,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand.

Vasco looked at them with amusement. “You know how to dance?” he asked Kurt. “Her, I would have expected, but you—”

“I taught him,” de Sardet laughed. “When I was a girl. Constantin had said something stupid about footwork in the training yard, and Kurt told him that if he could dance, he could master the footwork necessary for fencing. Constantin told him that it should work in reverse. Kurt insisted he wasn’t about to humiliate himself by – what did you say?”

“By prancing around like certain little lords I knew,” Kurt supplied.

“That was it,” said de Sardet as Vasco grinned. “But Constantin was doing so horribly, I was worried about him. I told him that if Kurt learned to dance, he had to promise me he’d learn his footwork.”

“I was worried about keeping my position if I couldn’t teach him to fight, so I gave in.”

“You were tired of me pestering you about it. I must have asked a hundred times.”

“It turned out to be a useful skill,” Kurt admitted. “There were times at court when it helped to know the steps.”

“It got Constantin to learn his footwork.”

“I thought he’d laugh at me,” Kurt admitted. “I wasn’t about to be mocked by a pair of teenagers. As it turned out, it only frustrated him – and that got him to learn.”

“Constantin always learned better when provoked.” De Sardet smiled as the music began. “And now I get to dance with you.” She paused, looking to Vasco. “Do you know how, Commodore?”

Vasco laughed. “You’ve seen the only dances I know,” he said. “Those aren’t exactly made for a ballroom.”

“You’ll owe me one aboard the _Sea Horse_ , then.”

“That’s a bargain,” Vasco acknowledged as Kurt led her out onto the floor.

“Are you sure we ought to be doing this?” she asked as they began the dance, a slow waltz.

“I’m assuming you’ll have your turn with some other young gentlemen of the Congregation after this,” he said. “I don’t think anyone here will think there’s anything amiss about the Princess de Sardet having a dance with her former master-at-arms.” He paused. “I did see that young lord your uncle seated next to you at the banquet.”

“Kurt! Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Her lips twisted in what was meant to be a smile, but didn’t quite make it past a grimace. “Henri de Renaud is of the same cut as Luc de Papillon. Worse, he’s Isabelle’s older brother – and just as bad as she ever was.”

She related his words, and saw Kurt’s jaw tighten. “He’s a fool.”

“Which I knew.” She paused. “What I didn’t know was that my uncle intended Constantin to marry Lady Isabelle. They practically had the contract drawn up when he died.”

“Constantin didn’t know. He would have told you.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s all so horrible. He would have married him off without his consent, even without his knowledge…my uncle has promised not to do the same to me, but I don’t know if I can trust him.”

“He’s promised?” Kurt’s eyes betrayed a wary sort of hope. “Why would he do that?”

“I told him I wouldn’t. I also may have hinted that if he tried, I might reveal certain truths.” She brushed lightly at her mark, as if pushing a strand of hair from her face, then returned her hand to Kurt’s shoulder. “I told him that I would refrain from revealing those truths if he let me choose my own husband.”

“Do you think he’ll keep his word?”

“I don’t know,” de Sardet said again. “It isn’t as if he has a choice. He may be the ruler of the Congregation, but he must still abide by the laws of Serene. He can’t force me to wed, and were he to try, I could still reveal everything. I hope that he won’t force my hand, but…” The dance came to a halt, and Kurt bowed.

“A set is two dances,” she reminded him, and pulled him back into a close hold.

“I would do this all night if I could.” He smiled at her; just before the music started, he leaned in for a moment close to her ear and whispered, “You do look magnificent, sweet Excellency.”

“Thank you,” she said. After that, she didn’t speak of politics or her uncle: she wanted to savor the dance, the feel of Kurt’s hand on her waist, the music and the moment. Kurt seemed to sense that, and didn’t bring it up: instead, his hand tightened on hers, and they spun around the floor, moving in perfect time.

“You haven’t forgotten a thing,” she said as it ended.

“Neither have you.”

She returned to him with Vasco, who had watched the whole thing with amusement. “You really are full of surprises, Major,” he said, a smile still playing on his lips.

“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”

“Never,” Vasco confirmed.

De Sardet hesitated, enjoying their lightheartedness and not wanting to ruin the moment, but not knowing when Vasco might return to the palace. “Vasco,” she said carefully, “Lord and Lady d’Arcy are here. I could introduce you, if you’d like.”

His smile faded. “Now, what reason would the Princess de Sardet have to introduce a Naut fleet commander to a noble family of the Congregation?”

“Perhaps she wishes to introduce her friends,” she suggested. “Or perhaps she might have heard that Lord d’Arcy wishes to forge mercantile connections among the Nauts, and thought she might facilitate such a connection?”

“Has he requested such an introduction?”

“No,” de Sardet admitted. “But if my source was mistaken, well…”

“You could simply tell them about their son’s problems, and the help the fleet commander provided in getting him out of it,” suggested Kurt. “You could tell them that you thought they might be interested in giving him their thanks.”

“They’ll think I’m asking for a reward,” Vasco said immediately. “I’ve no desire for them to see me as a beggar.”

“Or a mercenary?” Kurt suggested.

“Precisely. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Vasco turned to de Sardet. “It’s a generous offer, de Sardet, but I’ve already seen what I need to of the d’Arcys. I am a Naut, and I doubt they would ever see me as anything else – nor would I want them to.”

“If you change your mind, the offer stands,” she said. “Your fa—Lord d’Arcy is very old. If I don’t make the introduction now, I don’t know that you’ll have another chance.”

“Thank you, but my answer stands.”

Kurt looked to her. “You may want to speak with the d’Arcys anyway,” he said. “Or at least not with the likes of us.”

“Are you encouraging me to dance with other men?”

“Most definitely. Now, go on.”

De Sardet took his advice and immediately took to the floor with nearly a dozen noblemen of the Congregation: not Henri de Renaud, but all sons of princes of the Congregation, men between fifteen and forty-five. _All of them varying degrees of avaricious, arrogant, or insipid._ She couldn’t help but see all the qualities that _en on mil frichtimen_ had accused Constantin of possessing: greed, arrogance, pride. _There are men like that on Teer Fradee as well, but none I’d be expected to marry._ A few were relatively harmless: pleasant men with a certain empty charm, or nervous young boys who were overawed by her status, even one or two who might not have been entirely repellent had she truly been the daughter of Alexandre and Jeanne de Sardet, but she knew that all of them would have been repelled had they known the truth of her birth.

 _Besides,_ she couldn’t help thinking, _none of them compare to Kurt._ Her honorable, steadfast captain, whose loyalty had remained unshaken to her through all their trials: she wouldn’t have traded him for a thousand princes of the Congregation.

Her final meeting of the night was with her mother’s friend, who had helped Jeanne de Sardet write her letter. Lady de Nicolet had been Jeanne de Sardet’s best friend for decades, and while she knew the truth, de Sardet could tell that it didn’t matter to her: she greeted her warmly, as she would have a beloved niece.

“You received your mother’s letter?” was the first thing she asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“She wanted you to have it. Don’t worry; before I ever set pen to paper, she made me promise that I wouldn’t reveal any secrets she disclosed within. I swore by the Enlightened that I would not, and I will keep my word.”

“Thank you,” de Sardet said again. “For everything. For being with her when I could not. I miss her so much…”

Sylvie de Nicolet embraced her warmly then. “So do I.”

They spoke of her mother, of fond remembrances and happier memories, both of them deliberately avoiding her last days. “I was sorry to hear of your cousin. For your mother to be afflicted with the malichor would be terrible enough…but two people you loved so, and your cousin's illness deliberately inflicted at that…” Again, she embraced her. “I am so glad that you were not taken ill. Your mother’s greatest wish was that you would live, and be happy, and never suffer that dreadful disease. She hoped you would stay on Teer Fradee, far away from Serene and its court.” Her voice grew hard. “Far away from your uncle.” Lady de Nicolet and the Prince d’Orsay had never liked one another.

“I hope to return.”

“I hope you will, as well. This is no place for a young woman such as yourself. Have you been happy on Teer Fradee?”

“Despite everything, yes. If Constantin had never taken ill, I would say so without reservation.”

“Then you should return. I wish you all possible happiness, Princess, for your mother’s sake as well as your own.”


	10. Chapter 10

The next days passed in a blur: endless mornings spent visiting the Hall of Merchants, watching her uncle debate with the Bridge’s emissary; afternoons spent in empty socializing with other members of the nobility, or in looking over certain papers pertaining to the administration of House de Sardet’s affairs; state banquets at night. Edmond de Cortone even managed to corner her after dinner one night, reminding her that she had promised to sit for him again before her first departure from Serene, and forced her to spend several afternoons sitting for another portrait, promising that this time he would present her with the finished product before she could depart. Nearly a week passed before she found time to venture outside the city. 

The tombs of the princes of the Congregation were located outside the city walls. “They construct a thousand palaces for their dead,” the ambassador from Al Saad had once said, and looking at the cemetery, de Sardet had to admit that it was true: each noble house had its own building, and each had tried to outstrip the others in size and grandeur. The grounds themselves were sprawling, and the outbuildings were dedicated to noble families that did not hold the title of prince, smaller structures that were but pale imitations of the great houses’ efforts.

Her friends met her at the gates. “Thank you for coming,” she said.

“ _Carants_ ,” Siora greeted her. “It is the first time I have been outside your city. It is terrible here. The skies are clouded with smoke, the waters are filled with filth…is all your land like this?”

“Yes,” said Aphra. “The streets of Al Saad are worse.”

“It is no wonder that the malichor has taken so many. Dunncas was right. You poison your land, and it poisons you in return.” Siora stopped, seeming to remember where they were. “I am sorry.”

“It may well be true,” said de Sardet. “If it is, I hope that you can help.”

“If it is possible, we will.” Siora put a hand on her arm. “But first we will help you say goodbye.”

As they made their way into the cemetery, Siora looked around. “You do not return your dead to the earth,” said Siora. She ran her hand along the wall of some minor house’s tomb, a building scarcely large enough to hold a single generation. “You entomb them in a prison of stone.”

“Only the lords,” Kurt said. “The poor are burned. The Coin Guard keeps a cemetery not far from here; we tend to follow the customs of whatever land we're stationed in, although land is precious enough here that most men end up stacked atop each other, if they're not burned.”

“We have less land than most countries,” de Sardet explained. “A monument like this is a sign of status.”

“In Tir Fradi, it is a terrible thing to be imprisoned in stone, cut off from the earth. You deprive yourself of your connection with your land even in death. Yet you say this is a reward for your _mals_? It is very strange. I do not understand.”

“Every land has different customs,” said Aphra. “In Theleme, they bury their dead in the ground, and mark the place with a stone monument above the casket. The kingdoms of the Bridge have many different customs. In Telbirna, there is a great series of caves beneath the earth, and they’ve extended the system further. Everyone is entombed in the catacombs. But in al-Amach, they insist on removing the organs and preserving them separately from the body in little jars. The empty corpse is rubbed with wine, stuffed with a kind of salt, and wrapped in linens. That’s only if you can afford it, of course; the entire process is very expensive, and takes months from start to finish. The customs in my own home are simpler, but…”

Aphra spoke of the burial customs of the different kingdoms of the Bridge until they reached the de Sardet tomb. House de Sardet was an ancient and noble family, but de Sardet felt little connection to most of those entombed within. The most prominent de Sardets had statues separate from their tombs; one, Prince Maximilien de Sardet, had led the Congregation only a few generations ago. His statue greeted them as they entered.

The oldest de Sardets were entombed nearest the door, and she had to walk farther back into the tomb before she finally came to her mother. She was entombed next to Alexandre de Sardet; like Constantin, only his bones had been returned from Teer Fradee. His effigy was closer to the main hall than hers, and as de Sardet looked upon it, she could only wonder that she had never noticed before that the features looked nothing like her own.

_The very image of my dead father,_ she thought, running her hand along his marble face. Alexandra de Sardet’s features were light, even delicate: vivid blue eyes beneath arched brows, a small, straight nose, and full lips set into a heart-shaped face; the effigy of Alexandre de Sardet showed a man with a prominent brow, a nose that looked as if it might have been broken once or twice, a wider mouth, and a long, thin face with a jaw that could have cut glass. _We never came here. Maman said it was because it would have made her too sad to bear, but I wonder if it wasn’t because she was afraid I would notice._

Moving past Alexandre’s tomb, she found her mother’s. The marble was newer, and the likeness of her effigy was exceptional: it was her mother as she had been before the malichor, every feature perfect.

“The sculptor must have known her well,” she murmured. “The prince spared no expense.”

De Sardet looked to the inscription. _Jeanne de Sardet. Sister to His Serene Highness Augustin d’Orsay. Wife of Alexandre. Mother of Alexandra. Beloved by all._

Gently, she found herself touching the carved words. _Mother of Alexandra._

“Mother,” she murmured, echoing the inscription. There were prayers she might have said, but de Sardet had never been very religious. _I hope you’re in a better place now. One where there is no suffering._ She thought of her mother’s letter. _I forgive you. Whatever my uncle did, whatever your part in his plans, you loved me as a daughter. You wanted me to be more than his tool._

De Sardet had brought the heirloom that her mother had given her at their last meeting: she brought it out now, a symbol of both her mothers. “I would tell you so much about what has happened since I left, but I think you know.” Even here, she didn’t trust the safety of her words; she hoped they were alone, but would not entrust her secrets even to her mother’s grave. “I think you would be happy for me." She leaned over the tomb, resting her head on her arms at the side of the effigy, the medallion still clutched in her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, with Kurt and Vasco on one side of her, Siora and Aphra on the other, but none of them said anything to disturb her.

When she felt ready to leave, she lifted her head, straightening. “I forgive you,” she murmured, running her finger over the medallion. “I love you.” She swallowed hard. “I’m ready to go.”

They followed her to the tomb of House d'Orsay. This was even more regal than the de Sardet tomb; like Serene itself, House de Sardet’s greatest glories had been a few generations in the past, while House d’Orsay had long been noble, rich, and powerful, but had only achieved the greatest heights within the last generation. _There were d’Orsays who led the Congregation generations ago, but not within living memory. My uncle reclaimed that honor, and he had intended for Constantin to follow him. He wanted to build a dynasty._

The tomb itself was as ancient as the de Sardet tomb, but Augustin d’Orsay had lavished money on its refurbishment, replacing broken stones and chipped marble, adding mosaics to the floor and monuments to princes who had none, and the Prince d’Orsay had reserved the most magnificent place for himself and his immediate family.

 _An entire wing of the palace of the dead,_ thought de Sardet. She startled when she realized that the prince’s effigy was already carved: her uncle as he wished to be remembered, a stately-looking man who was old but not decrepit. She saw that he had a separate niche with a statue of himself, larger than life and younger than his effigy: a man of perhaps forty, past his youth but not yet past his prime. _All of this, a monument to himself, and to the_ _dynasty he hoped to build._ She wondered if he thought it a waste now, or if he assumed that a third wife would bring him the son he so desired.

She looked to the sons who had predeceased him. Both sons of the Prince d’Orsay were buried in the same niche, as were his wives: one wife and son on each side. She noted that Sebastien d’Orsay had his own statue, and wondered if Constantin would also have one.

She looked first at the side that featured Helena and Sebastien; it was easier for her to delay the moment of coming face-to-face with Constantin’s final resting place. They had died before she was born, and she knew neither of them, but she could see how much care the sculptor had lavished on each of them: Helena’s effigy was so breathtakingly lifelike that it almost looked as if she could have been a marble woman lying asleep on her bed, and equal care had been given to Sebastien. His statue looked down upon his grave, a smiling young man wearing armor and a cloak, looking every inch the brave young knight from a story.

She looked at the statue for a long moment before she mustered the courage to move to the other side of the Prince d’Orsay’s empty tomb. Her aunt was beside him; the quality of her sculpture was no less fine, but Alexandra knew immediately that the artistry had not been equal to the sculptor who had created the effigies for Helena and Sebastien. It was not a flattering image. In life, Heloise d’Orsay had been considered a very beautiful woman: alabaster skin, flowing white-blond hair, pale grey eyes, and elegant features.

In death, her lips were pinched, her nose too prominent; those severe cheekbones that had given her an air of aristocratic haughtiness only looked gaunt and sunken. De Sardet had to wonder if the Prince d’Orsay had simply not cared enough to order the sculptor to correct the work, or if it was the final comment on his second marriage. _Anyone who sees the two sculptures will know which wife he treasured._ Helena d’Orsay’s tomb was marked with a long verse from a noted poet of Serene, and beneath the simple inscription that marked out the names of her husband and son, the sculptor had inscribed ‘Best of wives and best of women, best-beloved of those who lie beside her.’ Heloise d’Orsay’s tomb was not yet complete, but the frontispiece of the inscription appeared to be, and there was no verse inscribed beneath her name, her relationship to her wife and son, and the dates of her birth and death.

“Did you know her well?” Siora asked.

“As well as I cared to. She was a horrible woman,” de Sardet said. “She married my uncle because she only ever cared for power.” Heloise d’Orsay had been twenty years Augustin’s junior when they’d wed, freshly widowed; the rumors then had said that she had poisoned her first husband when Helena d’Orsay had died. _The rumors were probably right._

“She was known for poisoning anyone who got in her way,” Kurt added. “Quite the intriguer, that one. A queen cobra in a pit of vipers.”

“She never cared for Constantin. She never liked children.” The Princess d’Orsay had always dismissed her son out of hand, snapping at him if he tried to come near. _She showed more affection to her pet dogs, and she was known to test her poisons on them from time to time._

“It was sad,” Kurt agreed. “Sometimes he’d see you with your mother, and he looked like a kicked puppy, longing for a pat on the head.”

“My mother tried to show him affection.” But de Sardet knew that it wasn’t the same as the love that she had lavished on her daughter. _I wasn’t of her blood, and Constantin was, yet to her I was always her child._ The thought touched her, even as it made her sad. 

“She might have been kind to him, but she wasn’t his mother,” said Vasco. “You know, the more I see of this life, the more I’m grateful for the family I’ve had. The lies I told myself as a child about the tender embrace of a loving family…”

“The family you make means more than the one you’re born with,” said Aphra. “My parents were always kind to me…until I told them I intended to follow my own dreams, instead of living life locked in a tower gazing up at the stars. After that, I was the family disappointment.”

_The family disappointment._ She almost heard the words in Constantin’s voice. Knowing that she was delaying, she forced herself to step beyond her aunt’s tomb, looking past her aunt’s tomb to her cousin’s.

As she looked down at Constantin’s effigy, she saw the inscription: his name, followed by a simple _Son of His Serene Highness, Augustin d’Orsay and Heloise d’Orsay._ There was no mention of his title of governor, no mention of being beloved of his parents; she had not expected it to mention anything like _Beloved cousin of Alexandra,_ but she had at least hoped that it might mirror the inscription on Sebastien d’Orsay’s tomb, which had indeed said _Most beloved son of His Serene Highness Augustin d’Orsay and his wife, Helena d’Orsay._

She thought of how Constantin had always insisted that he’d been second-best, never able to live up to the brother who’d died before his birth. _Even in death, his father favored his firstborn._ Constantin had always insisted that his father had loved Sebastien more; seeing their tombs, she couldn't help but feel that he would have considered it proof, written in stone and engraved in every line of their faces. 

“Constantin,” she murmured, reaching out to his tomb. The effigy was well-crafted, but she saw little of her cousin’s features in the sculpted face: the sculptor had clearly known him in life, had managed the general shape of his face, but it looked as if he had worked from memory, or perhaps a portrait. Everything was just slightly wrong: the nose a little too long, the cheekbones a little too gaunt, the hair far too neat.

De Sardet pressed her hand against the cool marble. She knew her cousin’s bones rested there, the bones and ash she’d seen collected outside New Serene; she remembered how looked the last time she’d seen him, his skin pale and mottled with both black veins and green markings, the branches that had extended from his head like some great crown, the flames licking up to consume flesh and wood alike.

She also remembered how he’d been the last time she’d seen him in Serene: still drunk from the previous night’s revels, brimming with confidence, excited to board their ship. That was the Constantin she wanted to remember, not the power-maddened, twisted version he’d become, or the dying young man contorted with pain in a dark room, or this pale imitation cast in marble.

 _This isn’t him,_ she thought, running a hand over the marble. She realized with surprise that looking upon the effigy didn’t hurt as much as looking at her mother’s; she’d felt more grief watching his body go up in flames. _I said goodbye to him then. I hadn’t said goodbye to her._ A part of her would always wish that she had been with her mother at her deathbed, just as she knew a part of her would always wish that she could have somehow saved Constantin.

But that knowledge didn’t hurt as much as it had; after so many months of sorrow, she realized, she had come to terms with Constantin’s death. She knew that thinking of it would always hurt, but she could remember him as he’d been, without thinking of what he’d become or how he’d died.

“I’m ready to go,” she said. She gave the effigy one last look and murmured, “Goodbye, Constantin.” 


	11. Chapter 11

A few days later, her uncle informed her that he was ready to meet with the native delegation. “Not all of them,” he said, when he discovered how many of them there were. “Their leader would be sufficient.”

De Sardet chose Siora; she came with de Sardet at dawn, accompanying her into the prince’s rooms early, before most of the palace was awake.

“Why does he insist on meeting us in his rooms, without any others present?” Siora asked while they were walking through Serene on their way to the palace. “Is he ashamed of us?”

“Of me,” de Sardet corrected her. “He knows that if you are presented before the other merchant-princes, they’ll notice the resemblance.” She touched her cheek. “This has been presented as a birthmark…an oddity, but something that only I possess. If they see that each of you has an identical mark, and how greatly I resemble a native…”

“What would be the problem? On Tir Fradi, a child who is taken in by new parents is the child of those parents.”

“That is not the case here. Blood matters a great deal to the merchant-princes, as does descent. They trace their family trees very carefully, and both the familial line and legitimacy count for more than wealth.”

“Legitimacy,” Kurt snorted. “How many sons and daughters of the Congregation are truly their father’s, I wonder?”

“It is the custom for women to remain faithful until after they've produced two children," said de Sardet. "Whatever may happen afterward, the heir to the house is supposed to be of that bloodline." 

"An heir and a spare."

"Precisely. But even those children who are born from affairs in Serene retain the veneer of legitimacy,” said de Sardet, “and any affairs generally take place between two members of the nobility." She touched her mark. "Where I have no noble blood at all, and am not related to either of my parents by blood. If that became known, I would lose my title, my fortune, and even my very name."

"There is no such thing as adoption among your people?" 

"Not among the nobility." As far as de Sardet knew, the closest comparison might be that occasionally, a childless nobleman might take in his heir to be raised as his own son, even if that heir was a distant cousin. "Blood is of the greatest importance." 

Siora frowned. "That is both foolish and strange." 

"I'd agree, but most of the blue bloods here wouldn't see it that way." 

"Kurt is right. My aunt knew the truth, and she despised me for it." Looking back, Alexandra de Sardet finally understood Heloise d'Orsay's cruelty; she remembered all of the vile, veiled remarks that had flown over her head, even though Jeanne de Sardet had certainly understood them. _It is no wonder why Mother hated her so, or why she tried to keep me away from her._ It hadn't taken much; de Sardet had naturally been wary of the Princess d'Orsay, and learned to avoid her from an early age. "Even though she must have known of my uncle's plans for me, and she certainly knew my uncle’s insistence on keeping the secret, she often called me a ‘little savage’ or talked of how wild I was, how uncivilized.” 

“Which wasn’t fair to you, Green Blood. If anyone could be uncivilized, it was Constantin.”

“She disdained us both,” said de Sardet. “She didn’t like children at all, but I’m not sure which of us she hated more: me, for being a native; or Constantin, for being a disappointment to his father. So much of her status was derived from being the mother of the heir, I’m sure she hoped that Constantin would have been closer to his father.”

“If Constantin made him so unhappy, could he not have chosen another?” Siora asked.

“Who? There was no one else of his line. The merchant-princes of the Congregation may make alliances through marriage, but they do not adopt children. They care very much about having children to carry on the family name and line. That’s why my uncle remarried after his first wife died, and why he is likely to remarry now.”

“It’s why he would like to marry you to someone,” said Kurt. “I’m surprised he hasn’t raised the issue again.”

"He's raised it," said de Sardet. Her uncle had alluded to Henri de Renaud more than once since her return, seating him near her at those state banquets, practically ordering her to be civil. "But he can't force the matter, and he knows it. Once a woman turns twenty-five, she can wed whom she chooses, without permission from the head of her family – but I’m the head of my own house in any case. As the leader of the Congregation, he could threaten to strip me of my title or rank, but using his position to do so over a family squabble would reduce his stature in the eyes of the other princes, and might create alarm about abuse of his authority. Of course, he could also reveal the truth about my heritage, but that would entirely ruin my standing, and impair his as well, for having promulgated the lie.”

They drew nearer the palace, and de Sardet lowered her voice. “Careful. There are eyes and ears everywhere here. We cannot speak freely.”

The guards parted at her command, and she led Siora inside. “It is so large,” Siora said as they entered. “I have never seen a fortress of this size.” The Princes’ Palace was meant to display the wealth of the entire Congregation, and even given the reduction in power and prestige that the Congregation had suffered since the malichor had begun to spread, it remained impressive.

They reached the prince’s personal chambers quickly. The Prince d’Orsay was waiting for them, clad in his usual finery: a fur-lined cloak of gold, an embroidered blue doublet, and an enormous golden brooch, along with a heavy golden coronet. De Sardet was glad to see that he had chosen to receive Siora in a manner appropriate for a diplomat, rather than showing her a lack of respect because she was a native of Teer Fradee.

“Uncle,” said de Sardet, “may I present Queen Siora, _mal_ of the clan of the red spears, and a trained _doneigad_ of her people, a healer and sage. She was the first native inhabitant of Teer Fradee I ever met; her mother, Queen Bladnid, had sent her as an emissary to the Congregation. Siora, this is my uncle, His Serene Highness Augustin d’Orsay, first among the princes of the Congregation of Merchants.”

“I am honored,” said Siora.

“The honor is all mine,” d’Orsay replied. “It is certainly not every day that a kingdom sends its queen to act as emissary to another.”

“I am the _mal_ of my clan,” Siora replied. “You call me queen, but all the kings and queens choose a _mal_ to rule above all the clans. Dunncas is High King of Tir Fradi.”

“The _mals_ elect their leader, much as we do,” said de Sardet. “Just as you are first among princes, Dunncas is first among the kings and queens of Teer Fradee.”

“Then that is something our peoples have in common,” said d’Orsay. Again, he regarded Siora with that appraising look. “You are young, to be a queen.”

“My mother fell in battle against the lions,” said Siora. “She had sent me to gain your aid, but we did not arrive in time.” Regret flickered in her features, and de Sardet couldn’t help but remember Siora’s despairing cry as they’d come upon the slaughter.

“It was very soon after our arrival in Teer Fradee. In fact, I saw the village of Vedrhais before I set foot in San Matheus or Hikmet. Siora had heard of our arrival, and had sought help, knowing that a battle was imminent. Constantin had hoped I could negotiate a cease-fire,” de Sardet supplied. “He wished to earn the trust of the natives without jeopardizing our alliance with the Bridge.” She paused, remembering Siora's cry when she had seen her mother's banner, and the pile of bodies around it. "Sadly, we were too late to avert the battle. I will always regret that I could not do more." 

Siora inclined her head toward de Sardet. “She helped me recover my mother’s body. When the mind-shakers lied and said that she had agreed to convert our people to the Light, she found the evidence of their deceit. Thanks to her, I was able to return my mother to the earth. She has my gratitude and my friendship.”

“As Siora has mine,” de Sardet said. “While the Bridge Alliance had attacked Vedrhais outright, Theleme had attempted to falsify documents in the hopes of converting the natives. They would have denied Siora the ability to properly bury her mother according to native rites.”

“The Congregation has long valued freedom of religion,” said d’Orsay. “The ability to worship in whatever manner we feel best, or not at all, is a core value of our peoples. I am glad that the Princess de Sardet was able to help you while maintaining our alliance with Theleme.”

“As am I,” said Siora. “I owe her a great debt, as do my people.”

Again, d’Orsay’s eyes narrowed. “In what way?”

“She discovered the plans of the death-bringer, and that his rituals were corrupting the _nadaig_.” 

"The death-bringer," d'Orsay echoed. 

"It is our name for Constantin...or what he became, before he brought death upon himself. The one whose actions would have brought death to our island, and to _en on mil frichtimen_ himself. His rituals corrupted both the beasts of the island and the _nadaig_." 

“The _nadaig_ are the guardians of the island, sacred to Siora’s people,” de Sardet explained. “The creature that burst forth upon the docks the day I left for Teer Fradee was such a one.”

“I am aware of them,” said d’Orsay. “The Prince de Sardet said that several of his men were killed by such a creature on one of his expeditions to the island. He described it as a massive monstrosity, many times the size of a man, with a spear as long and as thick as the trunk of an oak tree. Had I not heard it from his own lips, I might not have believed it possible - at least, not then. Certainly, seeing such a creature burst forth from a ship in Serene Harbor itself proved to even the most skeptical of men that such monsters exist." 

“The _nadaig_ are not monsters,” Siora said, her diplomatic veneer breaking momentarily. “They are bonded to the island, and serve only to protect it. _En on mil frichtimen_ gave them to us to drive the first _renaigse_ from our shores when they came to kill our people.” 

“ _En on mil frichtimen_?” repeated d’Orsay, frowning. "That is not the first time you have used that term, but I am afraid I do not know who or what you are referring to." 

“Him of a thousand faces,” said Siora.

“The natives’ god,” de Sardet explained. “According to the natives, the _nadaig_ were created by _en on mil frichtimen_ in response to the natives' pleas for help, and appeared in response to the first settlers’ incursions. They guard the island’s holy sites, and are themselves accorded great respect by the natives.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” d’Orsay said to Siora. “It was not my intent to offend.”

Siora’s voice rose in outrage. “You abducted a _nadaig_ from its home and brought it here in chains, and you say you did not mean to offend?”

“To us, they appear as monsters. We certainly did not realize that they were sacred to your people.” The Prince d’Orsay held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Again, you have my sincerest apologies, Princess. We have not attempted to remove a _nadaig_ from the island since then, and we will not attempt to do so again. You have my word.”

Siora subsided.

“We have killed _nadaig_ ourselves, in self-defense,” said de Sardet. “But I would agree with Siora that no _nadaig_ should be taken from the shores of Teer Fradee. They belong to the island, and to abduct them for any reason, let alone for the purposes of dissection, examination, or study, would be a grievous offense against the natives. They can forgive the damage that we have done in our ignorance, but not that which we would inflict deliberately.”

D’Orsay looked to Siora. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Siora said shortly, then added, “And none of our people should be taken from our shores against their will, whether or not they are _on ol menawi_.”

“ _On ol menawi_ are those who have undergone a native ritual binding them to the island, or those who have a parent who has done so. They bear signs showing their bond to the island, such as branch-like growths from the head, or...other markings," de Sardet added, gesturing to Siora's head as she spoke.

“I am well aware of that,” said d’Orsay, looking at de Sardet’s mark. “I am assuming that she also knows the truth?”

“Siora is one of my closest friends,” de Sardet replied. “She was with me when I met my aunt.”

“And with you at Dorhadgenedu, as you have said.” He looked again to Siora. “You were saying that the island owes her a great debt for discovering that my son had embarked on a ritual that resulted in the corruption of these _nadaig_.”

Siora, sensing that they were on dangerous ground, shot a glance at de Sardet. “Yes,” she said after a moment. De Sardet found herself wishing that Petrus was there; he would have known how to navigate the situation, eliding the truth and conjuring a better vision. Siora was a terrible liar, and wore her feelings openly. “He turned the _nadaig_ against our people. It was hurting them. They had black sores and terrible wounds, but they were also more vicious. _Nadaig_ do not leave their sanctuaries to attack innocents, but these were ravaging our villages and killing our people.”

“But I understood that Governor d’Orsay perished due to his failure to complete whatever native ritual he was attempting, before the Princess de Sardet could reach him.”

“She was willing to risk her life to stop him,” said Siora. “I was not present in Credhenes, the heart. But I was with her as we fought our way up the slopes of the mountain, and all saw her courage and bravery.” She paused. “She brought all of us together. Mind-shakers and lions, the men of the sea and the Coin Guard. Since then, there has been peace on Tir Fradi.” She glanced again at de Sardet, as if to seek her friend’s approval, then back at d’Orsay. “I am proud to call her _carants_. Friend.”

Again, de Sardet knew that her uncle had seen Siora’s uncertain glance, but he said only, “I am grateful that you have chosen to repay her debt by coming here.”

“She has asked only that we try to help her find a cure for the malichor. I saw what it did to the death—to Constantin,” Siora amended hastily. “I have never seen anything like it. It is truly a terrible affliction.”

“It is indeed,” said d’Orsay, and de Sardet saw something in his eyes resembling genuine grief. “But if your people do not know the malichor, what makes you think you can find a cure? All of the best healers on the continent have failed – not only those in Serene, but the physicians in Al Saad, the holy men of San Matheus, the barbers of Verrezia, the herbalists of Brystanor, the chiurgeons of Caledon. All have seen thousands of patients afflicted with the malichor, and none have found a cure; it is invariably fatal.”

“My people do not know this malichor, but they know of the link between the earth and its people,” said Siora. “High King Dunncas is a healer of both men and land. I have seen your land: it is poisoned, polluted, dying. This death makes its way into the food you eat, the water you drink, even the air you breathe. It is this which causes the malichor.”

“I do not know if we can cure those who are already infected, but if we heal your land, it will keep others from becoming so afflicted. We have brought those who are skilled in earth-healing and those skilled in healing men, and hope that we will be able to do both.” Siora paused. “I am _mal_ of my people, and cannot promise I will stay until we have healed your land, but there are others among our group who have sworn to do this.”

“You are doing this because of the debt you owe to my niece.”

“Because of the debt we all owe to her,” Siora replied. “She saved our land and our people; we hope to do the same for her.”

“Indeed,” said d’Orsay. “I certainly have no objection to your trying. If you are indeed interested in…healing the land, as you say…then perhaps you would like to see our lands? I know that your people have been confined largely to the docks in Serene, and to the streets near the port quarter.”

“Yes,” Siora agreed. “If we could see your rivers, your forests and fields…”

“That can be arranged. I also assume you might like to see patients afflicted with the malichor, and meet with our best physicians?”

“Yes,” Siora said again.

“That will also be arranged. I believe that we might start with a tour of the lands around Serene? I have already sent a summons to the best physicians in the Congregation; by the time you have finished with that tour, they should have arrived. They can meet with you outside the city or within, as you prefer.”

“Thank you,” said Siora.

“If you can truly heal the malichor, the thanks shall be all mine. In addition, while you are here, I would like to propose certain trade agreements between our people, perhaps a closer alliance.”

Siora’s face clouded with doubt. “I am not the High Queen. Our purpose here is to cure the malichor.”

“Then I can certainly draft proposals for you to take to your king,” d’Orsay said smoothly. “Surely you have no objection to that?”

“No,” Siora said, then glanced at de Sardet. “Is she still your…legate?”

“She still holds that title, yes. For the moment.”

“I would like her to return with me to Tir Fradi, to present these terms to my king.”

“I will consider it,” said d’Orsay. “You may go, both of you.”


	12. Chapter 12

Siora left Serene, and with her the entire contingent of _doneigada_ ; although de Sardet had only seen her a handful of times since their arrival, she still found herself missing her. She managed one visit to Aphra, who was staying in the Coin Tavern, but that was all; her own duties kept her from venturing out into the city, especially at night. Kurt had greater freedom to travel than she did: some evenings, when she was invited to dine with other nobles, he made his way down to the tavern in Serene and spoke with Vasco and Aphra.

“Vasco’s keeping busy; he says a fleet commander’s work is never done, and he’s been directing repairs to his fleet and handling cargo. One of his men started a brawl in the tavern a few nights ago, so he had to come down and mend fences with the tavern-owner.”

“Poor Geoffrey,” said de Sardet. “I don’t know how many times that furniture has been broken.”

“Reduced to matchsticks, this time,” said Kurt. “Vasco paid him out enough to buy new, and told the sailor it would be coming out of his wages. But it did give him an opportunity to see me. He asked after you.”

“Tell him I’m well enough,” said de Sardet. “Bored of the palace and wishing I could go home, but that isn’t new.”

“Aphra feels the same way,” Kurt said. “Except she’s not in a palace. Every time I see her, she complains that she should have stayed in Teer Fradee. She could be working on her book, she says.”

“Why didn’t she go with the _doneigada_? She could have learned from them.”

“She thought it was better not to. She’s heard how things are in the palace with those emissaries from the Bridge.”

“Poor Ambassador Sahin,” de Sardet said.

“At least Sahin is used to dealing with your uncle. I doubt that special envoy knew what he was in for.”

“Ambassador Karim? I do feel sorry for him.” The hapless emissary from the Bridge was clearly outmatched by her uncle; she’d been present at another meeting where Karim had suggested that perhaps the Prince d’Orsay might consider striking some of his demands from the list. The prince’s response had left him quaking in terror.

“Sentiment against the Bridge is running high,” said Kurt. “Constantin was better-liked than you might think. People have taken to remembering how he’d dress down and slip into the tavern for a drink. Had the common touch, they say.” He snorted. “As if he did anything for the common people except get drunk, start brawls, and throw bags of coin at them afterwards.”

“They did like the coin,” de Sardet pointed out. “And he was very different in New Serene.”

“That he was,” said Kurt. “But Aphra’s had to keep to her rooms. There was a merchant from the Bridge who was attacked in the street a week ago, and a mob talking about justice for Constantin a few days after that.”

“Then why wouldn’t Aphra leave the city? Wouldn’t she be safer with Siora and the others?”

“She thought it would jeopardize their mission if she did. It’s not just Serene that’s reviling the Bridge; Aphra said she talked to that merchant, and apparently this has been going on for a while, since the news first came from Teer Fradee that Constantin was dead and that the Bridge had something to do with it. Between us coming back and confirming that they poisoned him, and that delegation from the Bridge arriving to try to negotiate some sort of settlement, well…we didn’t realize it, but we might have been the spark to a pile of tinder that’s been gathering for months.”

“I hope my uncle is aware.”

“I don’t doubt he is. I just hope that we won’t end up having to extract a certain grenade-launching logician from that tavern the way we did that alchemist from Al Saad.”

“I talked one mob down,” de Sardet pointed out.

“By telling them they were going to freeze and fall over at any moment!” Kurt laughed. “I wondered if you were going to try to put a stasis spell on one of them if they hadn’t believed you.”

“I’m glad they did,” said de Sardet. “If I hadn’t been able to, we really would have had to smuggle him out – or fight them.”

“I would’ve enjoyed it more, but that hardly would have been the best way to start your career as legate.”

“Tell Aphra to be careful,” said de Sardet. “I don’t want her to get hurt. Perhaps I could talk to him about inviting her to stay at the palace.” The Prince d’Orsay had been using her in his plots: while he was openly cold to the emissaries of the Bridge, favoring princes who were part of the pro-Theleme faction of his court, he had taken to seating pro-Bridge princes and lords next to her at dinner. He’d also held another ball, specifically asking de Sardet to dance with some of the lords who favored the Bridge; she’d been happy to oblige, though she’d been much less happy when he’d told her to reserve a set for Henri de Renaud.

_He still keeps trying to bring us together._ De Sardet hated the thought: Henri de Renaud had been a friend of Luc de Papillon, and knew the truth of how de Papillon had deceived her at fifteen. _I thought he loved me, as I loved him._ It had been equal parts teenage infatuation and physical attraction on her part, but her feelings had been genuine; de Papillon’s had been anything but. _Henri de Renaud would feel the same._

She still remembered overhearing them talking in that gallery: de Papillon had been talking to his best friends, Aimery d’Amboise and Henri de Renaud, making crude remarks about her appearance and mocking her for her feelings. _He said that the mark on my face was so disgusting that he could scarcely bear to look upon it, and that he had to take me from behind if he wanted to be able to finish._ That had hurt, especially since de Papillon had always made her feel insecure about her birthmark; he’d refused to touch it, had asked her if it might be covered up, and had always had her turn her head away or turn around while making love.

 _Aimery d’Amboise told him that he was exaggerating, and that for House de Sardet’s fortune and the connection to my uncle, he’d have been willing to take me even if I’d been a hunchbacked prostitute who’d been with half a hundred men._ De Papillon had mocked her inexperience then, saying that a hunchbacked prostitute might have known how to please a man; he’d been her first, and had known it. _Henri de Renaud said I looked as if I had mold growing on my face, and asked if there was any beneath my skirts._

That was when she’d interrupted them, freezing the trio with stasis spells while she confronted de Papillon. He’d tried to threaten her with telling the palace of her disgrace; she’d threatened the three of them with talk of what her uncle would do if they breathed a word of what had happened, broken de Papillon’s nose, and kneed him in the groin before leaving. Shortly after, Luc de Papillon and his friends had left the court to tour the rest of the continent, embarking on a lengthy journey of debauchery; even after their return, all three had avoided her.

 _Until now._ Luc de Papillon was dead, but she had seen both the Prince d’Amboise and Sir de Renaud multiple times. Aimery d’Amboise was now the Prince d’Amboise, with a widow who had recently died in childbed, while Henri de Renaud had never married. Both men seemed to have enough wisdom to act as if they had amnesia regarding the entire affair; d’Amboise at least seemed to have enough wisdom to know that he had lost his chance at her hand, but de Renaud seemed to believe that her uncle might be determined on the match.

 _He has no more desire for me than I do for him._ At her uncle’s next state dinner, she found herself seated beside him once more, and found it difficult to keep up even the appearance of courtesy. “Sir de Renaud,” she greeted him. “How are you?”

For his part, de Renaud seemed to find it equally difficult. “Well enough. Yourself, Princess?”

“I am well, thank you. How is your family?”

De Renaud cast a baleful glance at his mother and sister, seated at the top of a nearby table. “Terribly disappointed, of course. My sister had dearly hoped for her match with your cousin…as had my entire family. It was my mother’s dearest wish that our house be united with House d’Orsay.”

“What of your sister? How did Lady Isabelle feel about a union with my cousin?”

“Do you care? You hate each other.” De Renaud stabbed at his meat with his fork, then decided to answer. “She was furious when she found out. She dearly wanted to be the Princess d’Orsay.”

“I am sure she did,” de Sardet said. “The Princess d’Orsay is one of the foremost ladies of the Congregation, and she would have hoped to someday become the Princess of the Congregation. But how would she have felt about being Constantin’s wife?”

“She would have been as happy about it as I am at the prospect of my own match,” de Renaud said, casting a baleful look at her birthmark; the seating arrangements had placed him to her left, on the same side as her mark, and she’d noticed that it seemed to make him lose his appetite.

“I believe your enthusiasm for the idea is the same as mine,” she replied coldly.

“It’s my mother’s idea, and your uncle’s, no doubt. It’s ridiculous. I am the future Prince de Renaud, thirty years old, a man grown, and I can’t choose my own bride.”

“Constantin would have felt the same way. I cannot imagine his reaction if he had been recalled home only to discover that his parents had concluded marriage negotiations without consulting him.”

“And you?” De Renaud didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh, I’m sure you aren’t happy, but you’re too much the diplomat to say it. If they have their way, we’ll wed, and loathe each other quietly, the way my parents always did.” He took another long draught from his wine-glass, and after that, said very little to her. “I only hope our children take after me.”

 _Even if I weren’t already wed, I would never agree to marry him,_ she thought. _Yet he seems to be the choice of the pro-Theleme faction._ That was mostly because the Princess de Renaud was one of the leaders of that faction, and the others seemed to have deferred to her wishes, particularly in light of the wrench that Constantin’s death had thrown into her earlier plans.

The pro-Bridge noblemen were in greater disarray, but her uncle had ordered her to greet the three most prominent suitors among them. _He wants me to show greater favor to Henri de Renaud, but to keep hope alive in those who favor the Bridge._ Had she truly been unwed and at her uncle’s command, she suspected that he would have tried to marry her to Henri de Renaud, while seeking a third marriage for himself among one of the ladies of the pro-Bridge faction. _He’d have tried to sire an heir with one of them, while making the pro-Theleme faction believe that Sir de Renaud would be the father of his heir apparent._

De Sardet despised Henri de Renaud, but was thoroughly unimpressed with the three candidates that the pro-Bridge faction had put forward. Jacques de Betancourt, Atherton d’Ailes, and Maurice de Beliveau were the unwed noblemen who her uncle had all but ordered her to speak with. Maurice de Beliveau was more than twenty years her senior, twice wed already, looking for a younger woman who could provide him with the son he lacked; Jacques de Betancourt was a few years older than Kurt, and rumored to have never married because he preferred the company of men; and Atherton d’Ailes, while closer to her age, was insufferably arrogant, vain even after he had been scarred by Constantin in a duel when they were teens.

 _Sir de Betancourt at least is a pleasant conversationalist, if insipid, and he dances well enough,_ she thought as their dance ended. She couldn’t say the same for the Prince de Beliveau, who stepped on her toes repeatedly and spent most of their dance complaining about his gout or commenting on the width of her hips while speaking of his hope for an heir. But the Prince d’Ailes was worst of all: he could be courtly enough at times, but there were enough times when he made crass asides referencing the wealth of House de Sardet that she was always uncomfortable in his presence.

 _It’s no wonder that my mother never tried to press for my marriage,_ she thought as she made her way through a waltz with him, letting her thoughts wander as he talked incessantly about himself _._ As de Sardet had grown older, part of her had wondered why her mother had never mentioned a potential husband, but she had never pursued the subject: her dalliance with Luc de Papillon had left her wary of any potential suitors, thoroughly disillusioned with courtship, and unable to hope that she would find romance at her uncle’s court. _I never wished to marry, and I was glad that Mother never tried to force the issue._

Now, of course, she knew why: Jeanne de Sardet had always known that her daughter was destined for Teer Fradee, and, moreover, had known that she wasn’t truly a noblewoman. _She must have known that any potential husband would have accompanied me to the island, and that the truth would certainly out while I was there._ Where Henri de Renaud might have reacted with anger and disgust, a man like Atherton d’Ailes would certainly have become violent. _He’s the sort of man who would claim I knew all along, and who would hurt me for having ‘lied.’_

 _Mother wanted me to be safe. She wanted me to be happy. She knew it was better I remain unwed._ She couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would have thought of Kurt. _She made him promise to keep me safe. Did she have any idea of how much he cared?_ Alexandra de Sardet couldn’t believe that; Jeanne de Sardet might have realized that Kurt’s persona of the cold-hearted mercenary was merely a façade, but Kurt’s feelings in Serene had always been platonic. _Even so, I have to believe she would have been happy for us._

 _What were my uncle’s plans? He wanted me to go to Teer Fradee, but did he ever think about who I would wed? Did he care?_ She could certainly believe that her uncle had planned for her never to marry, hoping that the wealth of House de Sardet would go to House d’Orsay upon her death. _He would certainly have known that, if I had never wed, I would have left everything to Constantin…though I could not see him turning down a suitable alliance if one presented itself. He might have found a lord who cared enough about an alliance with House d’Orsay to overlook the truth, especially as I would have brought the de Sardet title and fortune as my dowry._ Even now, she suspected that some of her suitors might have been willing to overlook the truth, had they known it: House de Betancourt was rumored to have financial troubles, and House de Renaud was eager enough for the alliance that the Princess de Renaud might have been willing to close her eyes to the truth, even if her son was not.

 _I wish I knew what my uncle was considering now._ As always, she knew that her uncle likely had half a hundred plans, one for every possible outcome, but he steadfastly refused to let on what he intended. _He will want to marry me to his favored candidate, but is he truly intending to try to marry me to someone in the pro-Theleme faction, to show the Bridge Alliance that he will forge closer relations to Theleme if they do not concede and give him everything he demands, or does he wish to try to wed me to someone in the pro-Bridge faction, to keep the pro-Theleme faction from gaining too much power while our ties with the Bridge Alliance are so strained?_ She knew her uncle’s overriding concern was to maintain a strict path of neutrality between the two, balancing the two alliances, but the Bridge’s responsibility for Constantin’s death made that an increasingly difficult path to walk.

As if noticing her distraction, Atherton d’Ailes finally directed a question to her. “Do you think we’ll have war with the Bridge? I certainly hope not, although it seems that the Princess de Renaud and her faction are pushing His Serene Highness in that direction.”

“The talks with the special envoy do not seem to be going well,” said de Sardet, moving smoothly through the last steps of the waltz.

“Karim thinks your uncle asks too much…or he can’t give it,” d’Ailes said, bowing. “My sources tell me that he’s written to the sultan and his council to see if they’ll give him more latitude for concessions. The last thing the Bridge wants now is to drive us into the arms of Theleme, and Karim knows it. Sahin, too.”

As the room applauded the musicians, d’Ailes said, “Governor d’Orsay’s poisoning was an act of war. He may have been an arrogant prick, but he was still the son of the Prince d’Orsay, and his death was an outrage to the Congregation.” He paused. “Apologies for the language, Princess.”

“But not for the insult to my cousin?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as the second dance of the set began.

“He gave me this scar, and two others. Surely you remember. He would have killed me if his master-at-arms hadn’t stopped him.” D’Ailes raised a hand, palm toward her; she mirrored the action, and they turned in a circle, moving clockwise. “I would say that was a charitable assessment of his character; after all, I hardly spoke of his failures, or his empty boasts, or his well-known proclivities for drunkenness and favoring low company…of both sexes, it is said. There were rumors that, even on the day you left for Teer Fradee, he was abducted by bandits and required that you to rescue him…and they even say that, while he cowered on the docks, drunk and helpless, you defeated that monster from the island single-handedly.” 

“And I would say that it is better not to speak ill of the dead.” They raised their opposite hands and repeated the motion, turning counterclockwise.

“House de Renaud and their allies would have us go to war over it…yet they forget that, before Governor d’Orsay’s death, he apparently also engaged in reprisals against Hikmet that could themselves have been considered an act of war on the part of the Congregation. I understand that you were instrumental in defusing the situation, and applaud you for it, but I fear the Bridge Alliance might still seek to use the point against us, should we press the matter.”

“I doubt they will. After all, the Congregation is the only reason that Hikmet is still under the control of the Bridge Alliance. If not for my actions, and those of Major Kurt, Governor Burhan and his entire entourage would now be dead.” They parted, weaving a pattern around the other couples; once the dance brought them back together, de Sardet continued.

“Governor Burhan might feign outrage, but his men have committed a number of egregious actions against the Congregation. Doctor Asili’s poisoning was not the only outrage committed by the Bridge during my time on Teer Fradee. Soldiers of the Bridge Alliance attacked a native encampment while I was negotiating under a white flag after following me to that camp in secret; a spy of the Bridge attempted to murder me and my companions after I had saved his life; and, of course, Doctor Asili’s experiments on Nauts and natives alike is an atrocity that would warrant the immediate abrogation of our alliance, if only to avoid sullying the Congregation’s reputation by association.”

“I would hardly say that the lives of a few Nauts and natives are worth destroying our alliance, but…if substantiated, your other points may have merit,” d’Ailes conceded reluctantly as they paused, allowing another couple to move around them.

“If substantiated? I witnessed the Bridge’s attack with my own eyes, and I fought off the spy myself.”

“Even so, such actions can be denied, whereas your cousin’s…” It was their turn to move, and d’Ailes had to wait until the dance brought them back together to finish. “I must admit, I do have some difficulty understanding how he mustered those attacks. The reports I have heard from my friends in Hikmet speak of attacks by wild animals.”

“Yes, which provides the Congregation with greater deniability. Do you have many friends in Hikmet?” De Sardet had done her best to keep Constantin’s actions suitably nebulous, not wanting to provide detail, and changed the subject whenever anyone pressed for details.

Usually, that worked, but not this time. “Yes, and they all say the same thing. Attacks by wild animals that were somehow caused by Governor d’Orsay. It seems absurd. Can you tell me how he managed it?”

De Sardet looked down, pretending to wipe at her eyes. “I’m afraid it pains me to speak too much of my cousin. Surely you understand. The grief—”

“I understand that your grief is great, but it has been months, and surely you’ve had to tell others of what happened. Come, Princess, what did he do? No one seems to be able to provide a sufficient explanation.”

Speaking of Constantin did still hurt, but d’Ailes had seen through her attempt at deflection. _I wish I knew how to cry upon command._ Even that might not have deterred him; she thought him unfeeling enough to bluster through even genuine grief.

So she fell back upon the explanation that she gave whenever she couldn’t avoid the subject. “As you know, Constantin was afflicted with the malichor. The natives are skilled with healing magic, and he had hoped that a native healer might be able to cure him. That healer spoke to him of a certain ritual that he thought might help.”

“Constantin learned all he could of the ritual. The natives told him that it was unwise, but he persisted. I tried to talk to him, but…” She thought again of Constantin in Credhenes, and a pang of genuine grief brought tears to her eyes as she remembered him holding out his hand. “He attempted the ritual. He thought that it had cured him, but it had not…and in doing so, he unleashed forces beyond his comprehension, upsetting the natural order of the island. The effects of the ritual were terrible; they caused wild beasts to attack both the natives’ villages and the cities of San Matheus and Hikmet alike.” 

“Yet Constantin would not stop. He repeated the ritual again and again, hoping for his cure…and eventually decided that he needed to do so at the natives’ most sacred site, a place of great magical power. That made the attacks even worse. Had he not been overcome, thousands would have perished, and all our cities been wiped from the face of Teer Fradee.” Tears blurred her vision. “He didn’t want to die. He was so afraid.”

“Then he was a coward. Hiding in a cellar during the attempted coup while you fought his enemies for him, sending a woman to fight his battles, willing to enact a ritual that would kill thousands to save himself—”

Fury rose in her chest, mingling with grief. “Prince d’Ailes,” she said, wiping her tears away so she could glower at him. “Might I remind you that he was my cousin…my most beloved cousin, and my dearest friend.”

“I insisted that he hide during the coup because he was ill. The Prince d’Orsay himself appointed me as Constantin’s legate, not Constantin himself. And he was wrong to perform that ritual, so terribly wrong, but you know how terrible a death the malichor is. If you were dying, would you not do anything in your power to save yourself from it?”

“Not anything,” d’Ailes replied archly, and even though she knew it was bluster, it still hurt. “I would never dishonor myself in that way.”

The music ended, and she was glad that it had. “Your Highness,” she said icily, turning on her heel.

Kurt found her almost immediately. “Are you all right? What did he say? I saw he said something to upset you.”

She let out a breath. “He spoke of Constantin.” De Sardet told him everything.

“As if he knew what honor was,” Kurt said. “If he had the malichor and the only way to save himself was killing his own mother, he wouldn’t hesitate.”

“He called him a coward, arrogant, a foolish drunk…”

“He was anything but a coward, Green Blood. You know that. He could be foolish when he was drunk, getting into fights even when he was outnumbered, but no one could ever say he wasn’t brave.” Kurt shook out a handkerchief, carefully wiping the tears from her face.

“I’m so tired of these princes,” she said, wishing he could hold her, wanting nothing more than to rest her head against his chest and close her eyes. “Atherton d’Ailes, Maurice de Beliveau, Henri de Renaud…”

“I know.” Kurt met her eyes. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you smile. I’d forgotten how little you did before we left this hornet’s nest.”

De Sardet tried to muster a smile, but he shook his head. “I’m not asking you to pretend. I wish I could see you happy again. Genuinely happy, not acting it.”

He held out his hand. “Dance with me? It’ll keep those princes away from you for a while, at least, and I can prance about as well as any of these blue bloods.”

That drew a faint but genuine smile from her, and she took his hand and let him lead her back to the crowd of dancers. As the music began, she couldn’t help but reflect on how much she missed him: while he was with her more than anyone else, she missed the easy affection they’d had on the _Sea Horse_ and in New Serene.

_How lonely he must have been, all those years,_ she couldn’t help reflecting. They were constantly in each other’s presence, but forced to maintain the distance between a princess and her guard: she had to be aware of maintaining a sense of propriety, to avoid anything that might have been seen as insolence or over-familiarity on Kurt’s part or scandal on hers. _He would never look at me that way while I was still his pupil, but there’s a reason I never noticed him; I was always fond of him, but I never truly knew him until we went to Teer Fradee._ Within the Princes’ Palace, it was nearly impossible to get to know anyone: other nobles were wary of being deceived or used in some intrigue, while servants and guards were forced to keep their distance by virtue of their lower rank.

_No wonder my mother wanted me to leave._ Her relationship with Constantin hadn’t been entirely good for her, too all-consuming and co-dependent to be healthy, but she thought that it had also been one of the few true friendships to exist within the palace walls. _We trusted each other implicitly. How many here could say that?_

She could say it of Kurt, now, but not of anyone else within the palace. _What I wouldn’t give to wake up with him beside me, to spend even a single night together._ The last time she’d visited Aphra, she’d almost wanted to ask her if they could use her room for an hour or two, but she hadn’t dared. _Aphra wouldn’t have appreciated us borrowing her bed, but that wasn’t the only reason; I don’t know if anyone followed us, or who might be watching._ Any of the tavern regulars might turn informer for a few coins.

It wasn’t only the lovemaking she missed, but the intimacy: the warmth of his arms wrapped around her, the comfort that she felt resting her head against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, waking in the morning to see him smiling sleepily at her, trailing a hand through her hair. _I wish we could have the sort of nights we did in the house in New Serene, sitting on a sofa together reading and talking while Vasco played cards with Siora, or Aphra and Petrus argued for the sake of arguing. I miss the nights we had around a campfire while traveling, sharing stories and laughing together._ She missed it all.

To keep from feeling too sad, she spoke. “Have you seen Aphra? I know that tensions are rising in the city, especially since the negotiations have been at a standstill.”

“Some are worried there will be war,” said Kurt. “Others want it.”

“Enough to try to create some provocation?” De Sardet knew that Aphra could hold her own in a fight, but she still feared for her friend. “Aphra is a distinguished scholar of the Bridge Alliance, one who has distinguished herself in the fighting at Dorhadgenedu. Last week, you spoke of an attack on a merchant of the Bridge Alliance.”

“Yes, and there’s been another,” said Kurt. “I didn’t want to add to your worries, but I’m sure that you’ll hear of it soon enough. The man was fresh off a ship from the harbor, and they set upon him, claiming he was a Bridger spy. They beat him to within an inch of his life before the Guard got to him.”

“If they accuse Aphra of the same…” 

“I could dispatch some members of the Guard to watch over her,” Kurt suggested. “At least, I could tell Captain Leopold to increase patrols at the tavern, with the suggestion that we should make sure that no more innocent citizens of the Bridge are harmed.”

“Please, do. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“I’ll also tell Vasco to send some Nauts to the tavern. If there is a brawl, they can step in.”

“If she finds out that you’re doing all this, she won’t like it,” de Sardet warned. “She’ll say she can take care of herself.”

“In the wilds against some _andrig_ , maybe,” said Kurt, “but if she shoots a gambler or throws a grenade into the middle of that tavern, she’ll end up in more trouble than she can manage. But I’ll tell the men to be discreet, if you think it’ll make her feel better.”

De Sardet nodded.

“She’ll be all right. I’ll look out for her, and so will Vasco. If need be, she can stay aboard the _Sea Horse_.”

“At least Siora and the other _doneigada_ are out in the countryside,” said de Sardet. “I wish Aphra had gone with them. It might have been safer.” She sighed. “I hope she’ll be all right. If anything happens to her while we’re here, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself.” 

Kurt looked unhappy. “I wish I hadn’t told you,” he said. “Not tonight, at least.”

“You promised you would never lie to me,” she said, very softly.

“I never have, and I never will.” Kurt’s grip on her hand tightened; he had made that promise after she’d discovered Petrus had been concealing his knowledge of her mother from her. Coming atop the discoveries that she was a native, sea-born, and that her uncle and mother had both lied to her all her life, Petrus’s deception had nearly been too much to bear, even if it had been deception by omission and not an outright lie. “I know how important that is to you, Green Blood. It’s important to me, too.”

_I love you._ She wanted to say the words aloud, but knew it was far too dangerous.

She could see from the frustration in Kurt’s eyes that he wanted to say the same.

“Don’t say anything else,” she said as the first dance ended and the second of the set began. “We won’t talk about politics, or the unrest in the city, or Siora and her _doneigada_ , or any of it. Just…be here. With me.”

As he dropped one hand to her waist, the other closing about her own, he nodded, and she could see he understood. “There’s no trouble that won’t wait until tomorrow,” he promised her.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day brought new troubles of its own: her uncle announced to her that he’d had word from a messenger: the new ambassador from Theleme, a Cardinal Josephus, would be arriving that evening.

“There will, of course, be a banquet and dancing,” said d’Orsay. “I would suggest you avoid wearing red or green, to avoid the appearance of favoritism toward either Theleme or the Bridge.”

“You wish me to be entirely neutral to the ambassadors of each nation, or to my supposed suitors?”

“Both. I understand you have no love for any of your would-be suitors, but you are to remain cordial to all of them. I hardly wish to alienate either side, especially now that negotiations with the Bridge Alliance are reaching such a critical stage.” He held up a finger, as if anticipating objections from de Sardet. “I remind you that I have kept my word, and do not expect you to seriously entertain any of their proposals, if one should be forthcoming. Once I have concluded matters with the Bridge Alliance, you will be able to reject them all at your leisure, if that is your desire…albeit carefully, since I do not wish to alienate any of them. Although if you have warmed to any of them, I would certainly be able to work with whichever suitor best suits your inclinations...and I must admit that your acceptance of Sir de Renaud might go a long way toward placating House de Renaud, particularly as they are soon to discover that they will not have the war with the Bridge Alliance that they so desperately desire." 

"Never," de Sardet said. "I will not marry any of them, even Henri de Renaud. _Especially_ Henri de Renaud." 

"And you are certain?" 

"It is impossible." 

The Prince d'Orsay regarded her for a long moment before nodding. "If you are indeed so determined, then at least you will not have to maintain this pretense for much longer. Ambassador Karim should have an answer for me within the week regarding my latest demands; once he presents his response, I intend to begin thawing. Now that an ambassador from Theleme is here, I cannot afford to be too cold toward the Bridge; that might pressure me into making commitments to Theleme that I have no intention of keeping.” He paused. “In fact, I hope that the appearance of an ambassador from Theleme may prod him into making concessions he would not otherwise have been inclined to grant.”

“And the unrest in the streets?”

“Will diminish, once word gets out as to the price that the Bridge Alliance places upon peace and the continuation of our present friendship. I will ensure that the common people know that they will share in some of that prosperity. They claim to have loved Constantin, but the truth is that they have made a fiction of their imagination; they will love bread and silver all the more.”

“Why did Theleme recall Cardinal Antonius? He had served here for several years, and I cannot recall you ever being displeased with him.”

“Save for his attempts at enlisting you to go behind my back and persecute heretics I had expressly forbidden him from seeking?” Seeing de Sardet’s surprise, d’Orsay said, “Yes, I’m well aware he made other excuses to you. The cardinal was often overzealous in seeking out heretics, and I had made it clear that I did not wish to permit even a hint of inquisitorial activity within the Congregation’s territory. As it turned out, I was pleased with your actions in the matter; I know full well that Ambassador Sahin aided you in deceiving Cardinal Antonius, and that Antonius never discovered the deception.”

D’Orsay spread his hands. “Antonius was always far too sympathetic to the Ordo Luminis and its inquisitors, and recent changes in the political climate in Theleme meant that he was no longer in favor with Her Supreme Holiness. I suspect that this Cardinal Josephus will be easier to work with, and less inclined to concern himself with matters of heresy and doctrinal strictness.”

De Sardet remembered the terrified scholars. _They would have been burned alive._ “I am glad that the Ordo Luminis seems to be falling from favor, and that the truth about Saint Matheus is becoming more widely known.”

“Then it should be a simple enough matter for you to be friendly to the new ambassador and his colleagues. I have received news that the delegation from Theleme also includes a second cardinal, who the Conclave has granted a position of some authority in a newly-created missionary order, the Ordo Eruditio. I have not yet heard about the aims of this order, although I suspect that it may have something to do with the shifting political tides in Theleme: the Ordo Luminis has suffered several major blows to its power, and this order appears to have extensive ties to several cardinals known for their opposition to the Ordo Luminis. If you can, talk to this other cardinal; see if you can discover their aims, and more particularly why they have come to Serene.”

De Sardet agreed: while she still had no intention of being a pawn in her uncle’s plans, she also had no plans to antagonize him needlessly. Part of her still hoped that she might remain for a few months longer, conclude her visit, and return to New Serene, whether that was as princess and legate or simply as herself.

Feeling oddly nauseated on the morning of the delegation’s arrival, she asked permission to be excused, but promised to attend dinner that night; her uncle wasn’t entirely pleased, but he could tell she was genuinely ill, and granted it. “However poorly you may feel, you must be extremely pleasant to the delegation at supper tonight,” he chided her, “and during the reception afterwards.”

“I’ll make up for it, I promise,” she’d said, and had to excuse herself. She didn’t make it to her room; Kurt ended up holding her hair as she threw up in one of the courtyards.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling well?” She saw the barely-suppressed panic in his eyes, and knew he was thinking of Constantin: in her cousin, the malichor had begun as some digestive problems that he had attributed to the change in diet.

“I probably ate something that didn’t agree with me,” she said, hating herself even as she spoke. “I’ve had a few mornings of nausea, but nothing this bad.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It can’t be the malichor.”

“I know. But it could be poison. You have a taster, don’t you?”

“The same as my uncle’s, and he hasn’t been ill.”

“I’ll fetch your trays from the kitchen myself. Or bring you food from the tavern, or even one of Vasco’s ships." 

“I’ll avoid breakfast, if it makes you feel better.” It wouldn’t be difficult: she’d begun noticing the smell of the cheese that was served inside the warm bun that was the main staple of the breakfast meal in Serene. _That might be making my stomach turn._ It had never bothered her before, but something about it seemed more pungent than usual.

“You can eat my breakfast,” Kurt told her. “No one’s going to bother with poisoning a member of the Coin Guard.”

"Kurt, I'm sure I'm not being poisoned." 

"I'm not. What if one of those suitors has decided that if he can't have your hand, neither can the rest of them? Or if one of them has come up with some plot I can't hope to fathom. Damn this hornet's nest of a city." 

All her reassurances did nothing to placate him, and she spent the afternoon lying down in her room, knowing that Kurt was worrying himself sick. When she rose, she found she did feel better, but even that didn't set his mind at ease; she had to promise him twice that she would be careful of what she ate and drank, and even then he swore he was going to go down to the kitchens to speak with the cooks and tasters personally.

She dressed for dinner and went down, sitting once more at her uncle’s right hand. The entire delegation from the Bridge had been relegated to the top of one of the lower tables, seated with the Princess de Chatillon, the Prince d’Ailes, and the Prince de Betancourt. As those were the houses most strongly associated with favoring the Bridge, they could have no complaints.

The diplomatic delegation from Theleme entered: the lowest-ranking members first, being placed at positions of honor on the far side of the room from the Bridge, each introduced as Father Lucan or Mother Judith, Brother Paulus or Sister Livilla. There were a fair number of them: either Theleme was replacing a good portion of the embassy staff, or they hoped that the sheer size of their delegation would reflect poorly on the smaller one from the Bridge. It reached the point where de Sardet began to tap her foot beneath the table: hungry from having eaten little that morning and thrown up the rest, she wanted nothing more than for the major-domo to finish announcing them.

_Just tell me their names and be done with it,_ she thought, seeing the telltale flash of red as the doors opened. 

“His Eminence, the new ambassador from Theleme to the Congregation of Merchants, Cardinal Josephus,” the major-domo said. “His Eminence, the new head of the Ordo Eruditio on Teer Fradee, Cardinal Petrus.”

De Sardet’s head snapped up, just in time to see Petrus making his way down the aisle. Her face brightened immediately. “Petrus!” she exclaimed as he approached the table.

It was a breach of etiquette, as the Prince d’Orsay hadn’t officially recognized him, but neither the prince nor either of the cardinals seemed to care. “Your Excellency,” Petrus replied graciously, with a tilt of his head; de Sardet was impressed that the small red cardinal’s hat he wore did not move as he spoke, and wondered if he had pinned it to his hair. “Or should I say ‘Your Highness?’ I know I spoke to you of this on Teer Fradee, Your Highness, but again, please accept my deepest condolences on the death of your mother.”

“Cardinal Petrus,” said the Prince d’Orsay, “You know my niece?”

“I can claim that honor, yes. I met her while I was first appointed to your court, when she was but a child,” Petrus answered. “I cannot say I knew her then, but I do remember her running up and down this very hall during another such banquet, chasing her cousin with a wooden sword. However, I had the pleasure of meeting her again on Teer Fradee, and it is then that I truly made her acquaintance.”

“Bishop – excuse me, Cardinal Petrus was the ambassador from Theleme to Constantin’s court in New Serene,” said de Sardet.

“We worked together closely on many occasions,” said Petrus. “We also fought together at Dorhadgenedu.”

D’Orsay raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“My condolences on the loss of your son, Your Serene Highness,” said Petrus. “Governor d’Orsay was a most remarkable young man, and displayed many signs of great promise. Though his term as governor was all too short, he weathered one great crisis and managed several smaller issues that might have become diplomatic incidents had he not assigned Legate – excuse me, Princess – de Sardet to manage them.” Petrus smiled at de Sardet, then returned his attention to the prince. “His death was deeply regrettable. He had such potential, and was loved by so many, particularly his subjects in New Serene.”

“Indeed,” said d’Orsay. Again, de Sardet hated how untroubled her uncle seemed by Constantin’s death.

_Did he ever truly grieve? How did he react when he first learned that Constantin had the malichor? How did he react when he discovered he was dead?_ She could not imagine her uncle weeping for days over the casket with his remains, or locking himself in his rooms to stare at the ceiling. _I cannot even imagine that he shed tears._

“I had thought that, as ambassadors, you might wish to sit beside my niece,” d’Orsay told Josephus. “However, as Cardinal Petrus and my niece seem to know one another, perhaps it would be better if you sat at my side. We can speak about your predecessor’s recall and your mission here. I must admit, Cardinal Antonius’s recall was not entirely unexpected.”

“I cannot disclose the internal affairs of the Conclave of Cardinals, nor entirely satisfy your curiosity, I am afraid,” said Josephus, accepting the seat beside Augustin d’Orsay. “Suffice it to say that Cardinal Antonius has fallen out of favor with those currently in power within the Conclave, and that Cardinal Petrus and I represent those who are currently so favored.”

“Those who favor dialogue and understanding over forcible conversion,” Petrus added, taking his own seat beside de Sardet. “The formation of the Ordo Eruditio is another demonstration of the shift in the current political currents. I hope that the Ordo’s mission will come fully into its own on Teer Fradee, where I will make my home.”

“Is Mother Cardinal Cornelia being recalled, then?” de Sardet asked.

“No, my child; I will not be the governor,” Petrus replied. “My mission on the island will be with the natives, promoting dialogue and understanding, and hoping to reveal the truth behind Saint Matheus’s own mission to the island. My journeys with you have taught me that we have a great deal to learn from the natives, and I believe that they will have much to learn from us. Together, we can create a dialogue that is respectful of our beliefs and theirs.”

“That is truly a worthy mission,” said de Sardet.

“The days of burnings are over. The Place of Punishment may have a stockade for drunkards and thieves, but neither heretics nor so-called demons will be set aflame. I have orders to recall all members of the Ordo Luminis from the island, and to end all missionary camps that presently exist. In their place, new missionaries will come: not to convert, but to talk. I hope that someday, the natives will call us mind-sharers, not mind-shakers.”

“You might be careful,” de Sardet replied with a smile. “The natives might misunderstand your meaning, should you tell them that you wish to become _minundhanem_.”

“Would that I could have been worthy of the honor.” Petrus smiled sadly. “I hope to honor the memory of all the natives who have died because of the cruelties and misunderstandings between our people.”

“It is a noble cause,” said Josephus. “Meanwhile, I hope to engage in dialogue here. As Cardinal Petrus said, Theleme is turning from forcible conversion.”

“A lifetime in darkness would leave anyone reluctant to stare directly into the sun. If you can bring them gradually from the dark, lead them into the light with kindness and understanding, they will open their eyes willingly.” 

“One who is forced to stare into the light is as blind as one who lives in darkness,” Josephus agreed, “and one dragged into the light will never remain there willingly. We hope that a more peaceful, gradual effort will lead you to join us of your own volition, as many of your allies have done. The Princess de Renaud, the Prince de Brossard, the Prince d’Amboise: they have all accepted the Light of their own free will, and if we engage in open dialogue, we hope that more will join us.”

“You know the Congregation’s stance on freedom of religion,” d’Orsay warned them. “You may talk all you like, but I will never be willing to force anyone to convert.”

“Nor would we ask it of you,” said Petrus. “All that we ask is that we be allowed to speak with you, and with any who are willing to listen. In Teer Fradee, we intend to speak with the natives, who know of Saint Matheus himself. It is even said that Saint Matheus believed that the Enlightened had much in common with the natives’ god, this _en on mil frichtimen_ , and that our light magic and their life magic may derive from the same source.”

“Certain liberal theologians even say that the natives’ god may be another aspect of the Enlightened,” added Josephus, “though they are truly radical, and even those who do not favor the Ordo Luminis often find them to be nearly heretical.”

“Not that heresy will be punished as it was,” Petrus added hastily. “I hope a new era is dawning for Theleme. The writings of Saint Matheus that the Princess de Sardet helped us retrieve from Teer Fradee have truly produced a revolution within our society, even within such a short time.”

“Further reforms are certain to follow,” Josephus added.

“I look forward to hearing of them. Anything that makes Theleme a more open society, free of burnings due to religious differences, will certainly increase the strength of our alliance,” said the Prince d’Orsay.

“I hope to do all I can to strengthen our alliance. In that vein, I wish to reassure you that Theleme will be fully willing to support you in your efforts to seek reparations from the Bridge Alliance,” Josephus spoke up. “That the Bridge could grow so bold as to poison the son of the leader of one of their allies speaks of their character: their perfidy, their treachery, their amorality. They truly walk in darkness, without the guidance of the Light.”

“I would add only that they attempted to poison your niece as well as your son,” Petrus added, “and while I know you are surely aware of that, you will not know the full extent of their hideous experiments. I was with the Princess de Sardet when she discovered Doctor Asili’s secret laboratory, and to see the poor Nauts and natives who he had kidnapped and was performing such experiments on…their suffering, all the blood shed without a cause…it was truly unspeakable, the work of demons. He called it a laboratory, but in truth it was an abattoir.”

“There were some who were very recently dead,” de Sardet said quietly, remembering the bodies, and the blood on the floor and walls. “We rescued those we could, but I often think that we could have saved more, if only we had been sooner…”

“You did what you could,” Petrus said. “No one could ask for more.” Looking to the Prince d’Orsay, he added, “Her tenacity in gathering evidence for the doctor’s trial was truly remarkable. If Governor Burhan had been left to his own devices, he would surely have let him go. It was only thanks to the efforts of your niece that he was brought to justice.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” said d’Orsay, then looked to Josephus. “Thank you, as well. Suffice it to say that I will seek justice from the Bridge Alliance for this unprecedented offense, and that I fully expect them to provide recompense for the loss of my son – not, of course, that anything could truly compensate for such a loss. While your appraisal of my late son may be somewhat generous, Cardinal Petrus, your sentiments are most truly appreciated.”

“We may both be grateful that the Enlightened spared your niece,” said Petrus. “Her protection from the poisoning was most truly miraculous.”

“Perhaps she was spared for some greater purpose,” added Josephus. “The Enlightened has a plan for all of us, but its wisdom can be blinding for mortal men.”

“Perhaps she was spared so that she might prevent my son from destroying Teer Fradee in his madness,” d’Orsay suggested.

“If that was the case, the Enlightened should have spared Constantin as well,” de Sardet said.

“Perhaps her greatest deeds are yet to come,” suggested Petrus. “I do believe that she has been instrumental in keeping the peace on Teer Fradee. Defusing tensions with the natives, thwarting the Coin Guard’s treachery, improving relations with the Nauts, even convincing Governor Burhan and the Mother Cardinal to ally, if only temporarily…I believe the last of those was something of a minor miracle. I hope that you will allow her to return to the island; if she does, perhaps she might be able to serve as a mediator between Theleme and the Bridge, at least on Teer Fradee.”

“We are at war,” Josephus pointed out.

“The Bridge Alliance’s main grievance is that we have attempted to convert them and their allies by force. If we abandon that, this war may end. In any case, I see no reason to bring war to Teer Fradee; the natives would hardly love us for it…nor would our allies in the Congregation, I am sure,” Petrus added with a nod to the Prince d’Orsay. 

“A wise point,” d’Orsay agreed. 

“Then I hope you will consider my words,” said Petrus. “I believe you have a Naut fleet commander docked in the harbor now. I intend to ask him for passage to Teer Fradee…and I would be very pleased if the Princess de Sardet was to join me when I depart.”

“My niece has great potential. I must consider whether that potential would be better put to use on Teer Fradee or in Serene…but I will consider it, Your Eminence.”

The conversation turned, and d’Orsay began speaking with Josephus about his predecessor. Meanwhile, de Sardet turned to Petrus. “You have your cardinal’s hat!”

“The ambition of a lifetime fulfilled, and yet…I find myself thinking that it is only the beginning. All my life was working toward that moment. You know I have sacrificed a great deal to achieve this. Yet now that I have it, I find myself thinking that it will be a hollow crown unless I can do something with this power, with this authority.”

“The Ordo Eruditio.”

“Yes. I am the head of the Ordo on Teer Fradee. Cornelia will undoubtedly be displeased when she learns of my appointment; I believe that she had hoped that, when I left Teer Fradee to receive my cardinal’s hat, I would not return. She is a Mother Cardinal where I am merely Cardinal Petrus, but my position will still grant me a great deal of autonomy.”

“She will certainly be your ally in dismantling the Ordo Luminis, will she not?”

“Most certainly,” Petrus agreed. “Cornelia hated the challenge to her authority that the Ordo Luminis represented, and fanatics like Father Aloysius are always more difficult to deal with than pragmatists like myself. Admittedly, they may also be more easily manipulated, but I believe she will accept the trade.”

“She has no choice.”

“There is that,” Petrus admitted. “But she has always had a personal dislike for the Ordo Luminis, as well. You have seen her vices; the Ordo Luminis could have used those gatherings she funded as proof of her own heresy. No one likes the prospect of being burned at the stake.” He saw de Sardet frown. “I know you felt uncomfortable using Father Aloysius, my child.”

“I did, but that was before I knew…” She broke off, not wanting to disclose the confidences Kurt had entrusted her with. “Major Hermann was truly a monster. The so-called heretics the Ordo Luminis burned, the scholars and free-thinkers and natives, none of them deserved their fate. Hermann deserved all of it and more.”

“I understand,” Petrus said. “Then why your discomfort?”

“It was the implication that those gatherings would have convicted her of heresy,” said de Sardet. “When you spoke of blackmailing her, I thought it was with the loss of her reputation and position, not her life.”

“There are degrees of blackmail, my child. Rest assured, I would not have callously condemned Cornelia to death by burning.” He paused, taking a sip from his wine. “The greatest power of blackmail is when it is never used. The fear of revelation, rather than the revelation itself.”

This was a side of Petrus that de Sardet had never liked, though she had sometimes found it extremely useful. _This is what a life in a place like Serene does to a person,_ she thought. Petrus’s education had come in the courts of Theleme, but the Conclave of Cardinals and the merchant-princes of the Congregation were not so different.

“Everyone is here,” she said abruptly.

“I saw Major Kurt and Commodore Vasco,” Petrus acknowledged. “Is our scholar of the Bridge in attendance?”

“No.” Briefly, she explained the tensions in the city, and Aphra’s confinement within the inn. “Siora is here, but roaming the countryside of Serene with the other _doneigada_. I hope she’ll return soon; I miss her. Not that I’ve had time to see anyone.”

“I hope to spend some time with you, my child.” He smiled warmly at her, and de Sardet thought of home.

“I hope so, too.”

She chose to open the dancing that night with Petrus; while he was old, he was still capable of a stately pavane, without any missed steps or stiffness. “In my youth, I was known for the galliard, but I fear I would never be able to perform the lifts required.” Taking her by the hand, he walked her to Kurt. “Perhaps the gallant major would care to try?”

She was grateful for that, and spent the next two dances being lifted high in the air by Kurt, spinning and jumping. It was a pleasant break from the next six dances, spent carefully alternating between members of the delegation from Theleme and those from the Bridge Alliance, followed by a perfunctory waltz with Atherton d’Ailes and a volta with Aimery d’Amboise, again dividing her attentions between lords known to favor the Bridge and those who favored Theleme.

_My uncle is wrapped up in his plots and plans, but what are his plans for me?_ He had kept his word and refrained from explicitly trying to set up a courtship, but he still regularly seated her beside various young men of the Congregation at banquets, and she caught him watching her closely as she danced with the Prince d’Amboise. _He has promised that I will be able to end my pretended courtships, but can I trust him? Once this is done, will he permit me to return to New Serene, or does he have other plans? I cannot believe that he would have recalled me from Teer Fradee only to pretend to arrange my betrothal._

_The truth will out once he concludes his negotiations with the Bridge Alliance,_ she couldn’t help thinking. _Once he has his blood money for Constantin, I'm sure he'll turn his attention back to me, and then I'll discover what he truly wants._


	14. Chapter 14

As it turned out, de Sardet found herself regretting her wish soon enough.

“My uncle has announced that another state dinner will take place tonight,” she told Kurt. Ostensibly, she was training with her former master-at-arms in a courtyard; in reality, it was one of the few places they could speak semi-privately.

_Even here, there are far too many people watching._ Other Coin Guard passed through the courtyard on a regular basis, and servants and nobles alike walked past from time to time, each hurrying about on their business. _What I wouldn’t give to have a few moments alone._

“Another dinner? What now?”

“The negotiations with the Bridge Alliance have taken a turn for the better,” she said. “At least, that is what I have heard.” After a year of being the Congregation’s legate on Teer Fradee, at the heart of power, it was frustrating for her to be relegated to the position she had held in Serene: on the periphery of power, without official title or position, kept out of the negotiating rooms.

De Sardet had to wonder if her uncle was purposefully hiding something from her, or if he simply hadn’t considered that she was deserving of such power. _If Constantin were alive, I doubt he would have permitted him access to the negotiations either, but that doesn’t make it easier on me – or on Kurt, for that matter,_ she mused as he advanced. She parried his attack easily; she suspected his heart wasn’t in the training. _Neither is mine._

“Have you heard anything more?”

“I’m afraid not. Have you? I’d hoped that our friend from Theleme might have spoken with you.” De Sardet was careful not to use names, not knowing who might be listening in.

“I think his own duties have kept him busy,” Kurt replied. “I did make it to the docks again, but our friend the sailor said he hasn’t seen him. Nor has the Bridger, though she’s been in contact with the pretty flower and the rest of the natives’ delegation. She said they’ll be returning to the city soon; they’ve seen some of the countryside, but want to set up a place in the city. I think that the Prince d’Orsay has offered them lodgings near the Fontaine house to serve as their embassy, and an abandoned building in the lower districts to serve as a hospital where they can try to treat malichor patients.”

He tried another attack; again, de Sardet blocked, then countered with a burst of magic of her own.

“If my uncle announces any progress with the negotiations, I may ask him for a private audience. I would like to ask him what he plans.”

“Do you think he’ll answer you?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. He still won’t tell me why I’m here. We’ve been here well over a month, yet there seems to be little point in it. I’ve settled my mother’s affairs, sorted through her papers, and now it seems I’m waiting on his pleasure…yet he’s promised me he won’t force me into marriage, and I’ve told him I won’t wed. Why else am I here?”

Kurt didn’t answer, but his face was set in the perpetual scowl that had always characterized his countenance in Serene. “You know why, Green Blood. To serve in whatever plots he’s cooked up, the same way he was planning to use Constantin.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She paused. “I truly am. I hope you’re not upset with me.”

“With you? Never. Only worried.” Kurt circled her. “I know you’re not well.” He reached out and tapped her with his sword as lightly as he could, just enough to show her that he could have gotten an attack through. “You’re off-balance, and I can tell you’re not feeling well. It has me worried. That’s part of why I went to speak with our Bridger friend. I asked her if she thought your symptoms could be due to poison; she thinks not, but she says if you want to come to her, she could look into it further.”

“You’re worrying too much,” de Sardet persisted, but knew Kurt wouldn’t relent; Constantin’s poisoning had left him overly sensitive to his failure there, and despite her own innate resistance, she knew she couldn’t stop him from dwelling on it.

“I have to protect you.” Kurt glanced around, as if worried he’d said too much, and added, “It is, after all, what your uncle pays me for. I pride myself on earning my gold.”

“Perhaps I ought to pay you more for your services.” De Sardet’s eyes sparkled; if they hadn’t been in an open courtyard, she might have said more.

Kurt raised his eyebrows. “And what sort of reimbursement did you have in mind?”

“I could think of a number of ways to reward a loyal major,” she teased as he moved in with another light feint, which she blocked easily.

“I’ll remember that, once we’ve returned to Teer Fradee.” 

“Or sooner, if we have the chance?” She paused, moving closer, striking a burst of shadow off his shoulder plate. “How is our friend from the Bridge Alliance? Is she staying well?”

“Well, and confined to her rooms. You might ask if she can come to the palace, if things get worse in the city.” Again, Kurt’s face set back into that unhappy scowl, and she couldn’t help but worry.

“I know I’ve been neglecting you,” she began.

“It isn’t that.” He sighed. “I went to the Coin brothel today. To see Reiner’s aunt, Ingrid, and any of his siblings, if I could find them,” he added quickly. “I knew I’d find her there. I wanted to make sure she received the gold I’d sent, and to apologize for what happened.”

“Oh, Kurt.” De Sardet had offered some of the Congregation’s gold to compensate Reiner’s family for the loss, but Kurt had refused, insisting on offering the money from his own savings, in addition to whatever death benefit the Coin Guard had given.

“I offered them an apology when I sent the gold, but you know I’m no good with words. I thought it would be better coming from me now, in person, even after all this time.”

“I wish I could have gone with you.” De Sardet felt a pang of guilt. “I should have been there.” She knew that he’d been fond of Reiner; his affection had been that of a proud mentor, almost fatherly, and he’d watched over the young recruit as an older brother would have; his death had devastated him, and had made de Sardet realize how much he truly cared for those he looked after.

“You can’t leave the palace, Green Blood. Besides, Reiner was my recruit; it was my responsibility.” He put down his sword for a moment, resting, and de Sardet approached him, feigning concern for an injury. She insisted on examining his wrist, which gave them an excuse to draw closer, and to move to the side of the courtyard, where they might not be overheard so easily. “Ingrid was very kind…very understanding. More than she ought to have been. She told me that she’d heard about the coup, and everything that followed. I told her that the men responsible for his death were dead, and that I’d make sure nothing like it ever happened again.” He clenched his hand into a fist. “It still hurts to think of. If we’d been two days sooner, if I’d known…”

De Sardet put her hand over his. From a distance, it might have looked as if she was still looking at his injury, but she used it as the best excuse she had for physical contact, even though they were both wearing gloves or gauntlets. “There was nothing you could have done any differently.”

“It still hurts. To know I recruited him into the Guard, all but sent him off to the hell that was that camp…” His jaw tightened, and de Sardet saw him rub the bridge of his nose, one of the marks his own training in a ghost camp had left upon him. “He was so excited to go to Teer Fradee. He wanted to earn enough to bring his whole family over. I told Ingrid the offer stands, if she wants. I’ll pay for them all personally, and arrange the transport with Vasco. Once they're in New Serene, I can do more; I thought you'd be able to help.”

"You know I'll be happy to help in any way that I can. Do you think she’ll take you up on the offer?”

“Ingrid wants to stay here; Serene is her home, such as it is. But his siblings might come over. Robert is a blacksmith’s apprentice, and I’ve told him that there’s always work for such on the island; Anna works as a servant for one of the noble families, and Freyja wants to apprentice herself to an apothecary, once she gets a little older.”

“I’m sure that we could help all three of them,” said de Sardet.

“Robert will have to finish his apprenticeship here, and his sisters won’t come over until he can come with them, but Ingrid knows how to get in touch. I’ve made Conrad promise he’ll write a letter for her whenever she asks, and read any I send to her. He’s a good man; he’ll keep his word.”

“If only we could say that of everyone in Serene.” She thought of her uncle, and of the upcoming dinner that awaited her that evening.

“We should probably make an end of our practice. You’ll have to dress.”

Again, she caught the note of resentment in his voice, and dared a more personal question. “Kurt,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you jealous?”

“Of those fine fops? Hardly,” he scoffed, but lowered his own voice to finish his reply. “Only that they can spend so much time in your company.”

“You know I’d rather spend my time practicing. I fear I’m growing rusty,” she said, more loudly, as a servant hurried past.

“Well, you’ll have to make the time to practice. You can always find one of the Coin Guard if you’re in need of sharpening your skills.”

She sighed, and hoped her eyes could express what she couldn’t say. “Kurt…” she began, but he put hand on her arm, if only for a moment.

“I know,” he said. “I trust you, Green Blood. But I fear for you, too. This is a hornet’s nest of intrigue and plots, and I fear we’re both out of our element.”

“I won’t get stung,” she promised. 


	15. Chapter 15

De Sardet sighed and tugged on her dress as she entered the dining hall; the bodice felt uncomfortably tight, and she wished for the embroidered doublets she'd worn to such dinners in New Serene. On Teer Fradee, a certain flexibility in dress had been permitted; here, she was confined to the formal dresses she had always despised, with their stiff, starched collars and itchy lace.

 _Yet another occasion where I am expected to make myself agreeable to men I have no intention of accepting,_ she thought, _with little idea of why my uncle is expecting me to pursue this charade._ Her uncle had assured her that he wouldn’t force her to wed, but she didn’t trust him. _Why else would he ask me to return to Serene? Why else would he ask me to dine with one, then dance with another, and exchange pleasantries with a third?_ She was perceptive enough to know that she might be serving as a distraction while he enacted whatever his true plans were, but she also knew her uncle well enough to know that he would always have more than one plan.

_He must want me to accept one of them…but which one?_ From what she had seen in her time in Serene, House de Renaud was growing in power, and they would expect some recompense for being denied the marriage with Constantin; on the other hand, she knew her uncle’s policy of keeping the various factions equally balanced, and half-suspected he might try to align her with one of the Bridge-favoring princes instead, if only to counter their growing influence. _Then again, House de Renaud has allied itself with those cardinals within Theleme that have supported the Ordo Luminis, and I hope their influence will soon wane._ She knew that Cardinal Antonius's recall from the Congregation had been a sign of that diminishing influence, and the appointment of a new ambassador and Petrus's ascension to cardinal were both promising signs for the future. _But does my uncle foresee that? Surely he must; there is very little that he does not._

She was certain that Constantin's death had been the lone exception to that. _When he sent Constantin to Teer Fradee, I doubt he ever thought that he would fail to return. He would not have been planning his marriage if he had expected his death._ Even now, de Sardet had no idea of how that had affected her uncle's plans, or what he might do to try to compensate. _It has affected relations with the Bridge Alliance, but d_ _id Constantin’s death affect him at all...not diplomatically, but personally? I cannot imagine that he would want to align himself with the Bridge Alliance now, not when he knows them to be responsible for his son’s death. Unless Constantin was right, and he never cared at all._ Even after so many weeks in Serene, she could not tell if any part of her uncle’s grief was genuine.

_I am so tired of this. Dinner after dinner, meeting after meeting, with no power of my own._ For years in Serene, Alexandra de Sardet had been nothing more than a pawn in her uncle’s schemes, trying her hardest to carry out her duties while avoiding the notice of the rest of the court; then, she had gone to Teer Fradee, and discovered the satisfaction of having power of her own, of being able to do good while away from her uncle’s watchful eye, her aunt’s criticisms, the court’s gossip. _I’m no longer a child. When will I be able to go home?_

 _Not tonight,_ she thought. She was relieved that tonight, at least, she had been seated next to an envoy of the Bridge Alliance rather than one of her prospective suitors; that allowed her to exchange meaningless pleasantries with Ambassador Sahin, speaking of her travels on Teer Fradee and describing the city of Hikmet to him, while simultaneously trying to figure out how far negotiations had gone and when her uncle might conclude some sort of treaty with the Bridge.

“We had feared there would be war, but I now believe that will not be the case,” Sahin told her. “While I understand that the atmosphere in the streets is somewhat tense, hopefully the news of such unprecedented concessions will make the people more amenable to continuing our alliance.”

“Speaking of which, Ambassador,” de Sardet said. “I have a friend who has been visiting the city, Lady Aphra. If tensions worsen, do you think that you might extend an invitation to her to visit with you here in the palace? I’m sure that another room can be provided. She was once a student of Doctor Asili, but her testimony proved invaluable in securing a conviction during his trial.”

“That could certainly be arranged,” he said. “Why do you not invite her to the palace yourself?”

“Surely you must understand. As the niece of the Prince d’Orsay, my extending an invitation to a noblewoman of the Bridge Alliance would be seen as a sign of favor toward the Bridge. Given my own personal situation at present, I would prefer not to give people any reason to talk.”

“If I might ask,” Sahin said, raising his wineglass as de Sardet sighed inwardly, “what are your plans regarding the Bridge? I understand that your uncle has attempted to incline you toward a more personal alliance with those houses favoring Theleme, but you have been seen with several gentlemen who have seen reason and prefer to join themselves to my own nation.”

“As I said, Ambassador, my official position is one of complete neutrality,” de Sardet replied. “Although it seems to me that few people truly care what my own personal inclinations might be on the matter.”

“I am sure the young men involved care very much,” Sahin replied. “How could they not, when such a lovely and accomplished young woman will be their prize?”

"Thank you," she managed, though it took all her diplomatic skill to refrain from making a more genuine reply. _A prize._ The ambassador's words made de Sardet remember something Kurt had said to Constantin when they’d first told him of their relationship. _Constantin said something flippant about Kurt having claimed me as his reward for having thwarted the coup._

Kurt had responded in a surprisingly heartfelt way, telling Constantin that she wasn’t some prize to be won. _He said my heart had been a gift, and that he still felt unworthy._ The sincerity of his reply had startled Constantin, and de Sardet couldn't help but think, even now, that some part of Constantin had viewed her in a similar light to the other noblemen of the Congregation. _There was always a part of him that saw me as a possession...a treasured possession, to be sure, but a possession nonetheless. I was his, in a way he took for granted...a way neither of us questioned, not until Teer Fradee, and even then I don't think Constantin ever truly accepted it._

_Here, no one would accept it. That’s all I am, a reward to be bestowed by my uncle on whichever nobleman he wants to declare his heir…and I’m only the placeholder for the true prizes. The fortune of House de Sardet, my uncle’s favor, becoming the Prince d’Orsay’s favored candidate to succeed him, with all the power of House d'Orsay to help in the election that will follow his death: my hand is only incidental._ She thought of Henri de Renaud’s obvious disgust with her birthmark, or of Jacques de Betancourt, who would have been far happier with the marriage if she had been born the Prince de Sardet. _Vasco should be happy indeed that he's a Naut. He would never have been allowed to romance Captain Rodrigo if he was a member of the Congregation; members of the nobility are expected to wed members of the opposite sex, and produce heirs to further the noble line, regardless of their true feelings._ Constantin had been equally unhappy with that; he had been attracted to both men and women, and had openly resented his father's expectation that he would marry a woman his father selected for reasons of state. _How he would have raged when he found out what my aunt and uncle had intended._

"You seem distracted, Princess," Sahin said. "Might I inquire as to your thoughts?"

"I am sure they tend in the same direction as yours," she replied. "It seems to me that negotiations have been proceeding in a favorable manner, and that we will soon hear that our alliance has been mended and the breach between us repaired...at least, as much as is possible, given the circumstances." 

"Does that please you?" 

"I certainly hope that the Congregation will remain at peace, both on Gacane and Teer Fradee," she replied. "I believe I would be able to give you a more detailed opinion of the treaty if I knew more about its current terms. Would you be able to provide me with further details?" 

"Many of those details are still being ironed out, but perhaps I could," Sahin replied. "After all, if your uncle intends to return you to Teer Fradee to inform Governor Burhan of the results, I am sure you will wish to be well-informed." 

He was fishing for information regarding her uncle's plans for her, she realized, but she had no more information to give him than what he already knew. She brushed him off with a noncommittal response that suggested she knew more than she did, and in exchange, he divulged a few details about the treaty negotiations. _A large payment of coin for Doctor Asili's poisoning of Constantin, a smaller payment for his attempt on my life, an official apology, forgiveness of debts, remission of various taxes and tariffs, a guarantee that an ethics committee will be established to further guide experimentation, particularly human experimentation...the Bridge Alliance must be truly fear my uncle will abrogate the alliance and join Theleme in their war._ De Sardet had to wonder if that was why she had been barred from the negotiating table; she didn't want war any more than her uncle, but she doubted she would have been able to stomach listening to them negotiate the price of Constantin's life. _Or, had I been present, one of them might have made the connection between my birthmark and Doctor Asili's research._ Asili had known that the natives' marking conferred resistance to the malichor, though he hadn't known why; in fact, de Sardet's mark had been what had sealed her cousin's fate. _He wished to test two inhabitants of the continent, one with the mark, one without. He thought we were cousins; Constantin was to be his control._ Asili had hoped to infect both of them with the malichor, tracing its progress, but de Sardet's immunity had confounded him. _I_ _f only he had known the truth. We weren't related by blood at all. I was not the rare native of Gacane born with the marking. It was all for nothing. Oh, Constantin..._

Grief and anger tore at her then, and she knew why her uncle had barred her from the negotiations. _I could not have sat there and listened to their arguments, day after day._ She had barely been able to stomach a short audience with Governor Burhan, and by the end of her time on the island, she had confronted him with outrage and open contempt; in return, Burhan had scarcely been able to maintain a veneer of courtesy. _Even when I came to solicit his aid, he openly doubted everything I said._ The Mother Cardinal had been far kinder. 

"I must ask, was the island everything you hoped it to be? Barring the unfortunate matter of your cousin, of course," Sahin added hastily. "I have heard so much regarding the magnificence of the island, and certainly the city of Hikmet is one of the jewels of the island..."

_The "unfortunate business." As if it was a mishap at dinner, or some minor diplomatic_ faux pas _that could easily be forgotten._ But the subject of the island itself was one she could converse on easily enough, and Sahin had inquiries regarding a friend in Hikmet she could answer; he knew an alchemist who owned a shop de Sardet had often frequented while in the city. The rest of the meal passed easily enough, but it was still a relief to de Sardet when the last of the plates were cleared and she could rise to mingle with the rest of the guests.

She saw her mother’s best friend, Sylvie de Nicolet, and headed directly for her. _I’ve hoped to have a better chance to speak with her._

Lady de Nicolet brightened as she caught sight of her. “Alexandra,” she said warmly. “Or should I say ‘Your Highness?’”

“The title still feels like Mother’s,” she admitted. “I hear someone say ‘the Princess de Sardet,’ and I still find myself looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her.”

“You look very well. Jeanne would be pleased, I know.” She paused. “I trust you received her final letter?”

“Yes. Thank you,” de Sardet replied, and meant it. “Thank you for helping her.”

“I could do nothing less. If I had been in her place, she would have done the same for me.”

 _Lady de Nicolet is one of the only people here who know the truth of my heritage._ When the malichor had made her too ill to even hold a pen, it had been Lady de Nicolet who the Princess de Sardet had entrusted with writing a final letter to her daughter. Jeanne de Sardet had dictated every word of that letter, but it had been Sylvie de Nicolet’s hand that had held the pen, and her hand that had helped guide Jeanne de Sardet’s as she had signed that final letter.

 _She was always Mother’s closest friend._ Among the nobility of Serene, the depth of a friendship might be defined by the secrets that one friend was willing to entrust to another. _She was willing to tell her that she had adopted me, a native child stolen from Teer Fradee, who was not related to anyone in the Congregation by blood._ De Sardet had no idea if her mother had only told Sylvie de Nicolet that particular truth on her deathbed, or if she had known the secret long before, but Jeanne de Sardet's willingness to confide in her spoke of the strength of their bond. _She would not have done so lightly._ Such a secret would have ruined de Sardet’s prospects within the Congregation, and de Sardet did not believe that her mother had ever revealed the truth to anyone else within the Congregation. _My aunt knew, but only because my uncle told her; Mother would never have done so if she'd had the choice._ Henri de Courcillon had only suspected because of his own friendship with the Prince de Sardet, and because he had accompanied Alexandre de Sardet on previous expeditions to the island, albeit not the one that had resulted in de Sardet's abduction. 

_If it were up to my uncle, no one would know...and I am sure that my mother felt the same way._ _I doubt my uncle knows she told her._ If Augustin d’Orsay had been aware that Lady de Nicolet knew her secret, she suspected he would have been willing to have her killed to ensure she kept her silence. _Mother trusted her, and so do I._ Such lifelong friendships were rare. _My uncle and the Prince de Sardet, my mother and Lady de Nicolet...myself and Constantin._

“I know that you were with her when she died," de Sardet said. "Thank you. I wish I could have been with her.”

“She would not have wanted it. She was glad that you were gone, making a life for yourself. She hoped that you would find happiness on that island.” Concern came into de Nicolet’s eyes. “I was grieved to hear of your cousin’s passing, and sorrier still when your uncle announced your return.”

“I hope not to be here much longer. Despite everything that happened with Constantin, I was happier on Teer Fradee than I ever was in Serene, and I hope to return as soon as my uncle permits.” De Sardet kept her voice low. “Although I would appreciate it if you would not share that with anyone else.”

“But of course. I heard you did well as legate, and congratulate you. We had but little news from the island, I’m afraid, although I did receive a few letters from some of my friends there.” Lady de Nicolet nodded to Sir de Courcillon, who was chatting with Ambassador Karim halfway across the room. “I asked Henri for news of you; he has been a faithful correspondent. He said he believed you to be happy, and I am glad. I promised Jeanne I would do what I could to look after you, even though I told her that I doubted you needed me to do so, or even that I would have any power to assist you, as you were venturing to the very edge of the world. She was so worried.”

“She had no reason to be. I am happy, truly.”

She heard the sound of footsteps approaching then, and the flicker in Lady de Nicolet’s eyes as she glanced over de Sardet’s shoulder told her that the person joining them would be an unwelcome guest.

De Sardet had been expecting Henri de Renaud or Maurice de Beliveau, but the voice was both familiar and feminine, though she hadn’t heard it in nearly two years. “Well, if it isn’t Lady de Sardet.”

De Sardet cringed: until now, she had managed to avoid Isabelle de Renaud, but she sighed inwardly as she turned.

“Excuse me, but Alexandra is the Princess de Sardet now, Lady Isabelle,” Sylvie de Nicolet corrected her, politely but coldly. “I see that Her Highness is too polite to correct you, but I do not believe her uncle would look favorably upon your neglecting the proper forms of address.”

“But of course.” Isabelle inclined her head a fraction of an inch, dipping the shallowest possible curtsey. “Your Highness.”

Lady Isabelle had been the bane of Alexandra de Sardet’s childhood. The Princess de Renaud had been as close a friend to the Princess d’Orsay as any, and together they had looked down their noses at Alexandra. _‘Too wild,’ they said. ‘Like a little savage.' Not at all a proper lady._ Where Alexandra had spent her time hiding in the palace attics reading or chasing her cousin Constantin with a wooden sword, Isabelle had been the very model of ladylike perfection: forever tidy, dropping perfect curtseys and practicing her embroidery without complaint.

“Lady Isabelle,” de Sardet replied cautiously. Isabelle was impeccably dressed in the latest fashions, a vibrant red that spoke of House de Renaud’s affiliations with Theleme. De Sardet's own choice of attire was carefully neutral, a gown of midnight blue trimmed with gold.

_She was always the very image of beauty._ As they’d grown into teenagers, Alexandra’s birthmark had become a point of self-consciousness, and her features, so common among the natives of Teer Fradee, were unlike those of the Congregation’s nobility. She was taller than average, and it had felt to her as if she had stuck out, awkward and gawky, amidst a sea of noblewomen. _She had all the proper curves, where I always felt as if I were all elbows and knees._ Under Kurt's training, she had added muscle to her frame, but she had remained self-conscious about her lack of curves, especially as Isabelle herself hadn't hesitated to mock her. _She always said I looked more like a boy than a proper lady, flat-chested and narrow-hipped._

Now, facing her childhood rival, some of de Sardet's teenage insecurities couldn't help but return. Isabelle de Renaud was several inches shorter than Alexandra, with delicate features, golden curls that had cascaded past her shoulders like spirals of sunlight, and perfect pale skin unmarred by even a single pimple. Her bodice was tightly-laced to accentuate her curves, her gown the height of style, with an enormous flared ruff that framed her entire head; de Sardet, who had always found such collars unflattering, had refused to wear one herself, preferring a lower-cut dress that lacked the uncomfortable lace panel on the front of the dress and the enormous ruff that she had always found ridiculous. In place of the lace panel, she wore a necklace that Kurt had given her the night before the battle at Dorhadgenedu, a simple gold medallion with a single sapphire in its center that he had crafted himself; instead of the ruff, she had put her hair up, pinning it into a hairnet of golden embroidery and pearls; her only real concession to discomfort had been the heavy earrings that her servants had insisted she wear, enormous sapphires suspended from droplets of gold. _I thought that would be enough, yet somehow, I cannot help but feel out of place when standing beside her._

Isabelle de Renaud had always done her best to make de Sardet feel wholly inadequate, echoing the remarks that her mother and Heloise d’Orsay had made, sniffing about her lack of beauty, her lack of femininity, or the fact that no one had ever seemed interested in asking for her hand. _I think she always feared I would wed Constantin._ Even then, Isabelle de Renaud had wanted power, and despite the various lords she'd courted in the intervening years, de Sardet suspected that Constantin had always remained her ultimate prize. 

_A prize to be won, a reward to be bestowed, an object rather than a person. She never wanted Constantin for himself._ However he might have viewed her, de Sardet knew that Constantin had been viewed the same way by others. _At least Constantin loved me for myself._

Isabelle looked Alexandra up and down, as if silently appraising her appearance and finding it wanting. "It has been quite a long time, hasn't it, Your Highness?"

_Not long enough,_ de Sardet wanted to say, but caught herself. "It certainly has. I’m surprised we haven’t spoken since my return to Serene,” de Sardet said cautiously. In truth, she’d been avoiding her; dealing with Henri de Renaud was bad enough.

“Oh, I’m not.” Isabelle laughed, a high-pitched, false-sounding note that grated on de Sardet’s ears. _Constantin used to mock her for it._ He had done a fairly accurate imitation of Isabelle’s giggle; thinking of it now, she missed him fiercely. “You’ve been so busy entertaining your suitors. Sir d’Ailes, the Prince de Beliveau, Sir de Betancourt, my brother…”

“Where I understand that you have lost your own.”

Isabelle gave her a sharp look. “Constantin was to have been _my_ husband,” she said, with an uncomfortable emphasis on the possessive. De Sardet had to suppress a shudder; it reminded her too much of the way that Constantin had called her “ _my_ beloved cousin,” particularly after his madness.

“That would have come as news to Constantin,” de Sardet couldn’t help saying. “He was not aware.”

Isabelle let out another of those false laughs. “Surely he expected to wed. And he knew that he would always make an advantageous marriage, not an _unsuitable_ one.” _Not with you,_ her tone said.

_How many people believed we were interested in each other?_ She wondered how many people thought they had been involved. _Surely they would have realized that my uncle would have put a stop to anything like that immediately. They must have known that he did, once._ They had been mere children then, too young to have a thought of romance; all Constantin had known was that he wanted her to be always by his side. _As we grew older, surely they must have seen that neither of us were interested._

Yet looking at Isabelle, she could see that Isabelle believed that they had been rivals for his hand. _People see what they wish to see._ Isabelle had seen their friendship and mistaken it for something more. _I doubt she ever cared about his affections._

“I don’t believe he thought of marriage at all,” de Sardet said aloud. “He thought of the governorship and his duties, not matters of romance.”

“Romance?” Now, Isabelle gave a harsher laugh that de Sardet could believe genuine. “As if romance ever had anything to do with marriage.”

“I know you don’t like my brother. He is nothing like your precious Constantin. And I know you despise me. But our house is an ancient, proud one, and the advantages of allying House de Sardet with House de Renaud…and by extension, House d’Orsay with House de Renaud…cannot be overstated, surely.” Again, Isabelle looked her up and down. “They say you were quite the celebrated politician on that wretched island. You must understand the importance of creating such alliances…and I would think that you would personally wish to marry, if only to secure an heir for your house. With your mother’s difficulties, and your own advancing age, surely you wish to secure an heir for your house sooner than later?”

De Sardet couldn’t help but laugh. “My own advancing age? I’m hardly ancient.”

Next to her, Sylvie de Nicolet had grown angry: she had been Jeanne de Sardet’s best friend, and was well aware of her friend’s difficulties with childbearing. “It is hardly a fit topic for you to speak of, Lady de Renaud. After all, you are older than the Princess de Sardet, and as yet unmarried still.” She put a cold put polite emphasis on the final word, and while her smile was cold, her eyes were afire with anger.

“I am also not the only member of my house…and it is my brother’s children who will be the heirs of House de Renaud, not my own.” That, de Sardet could tell, was another sore point: Isabelle’s anger was palpable.

“Yes,” de Nicolet replied. “Your marriage will benefit House de Renaud, certainly, but you will not remain a part of it. Whereas the Princess de Sardet’s marriage contract will almost certainly contain stipulations to ensure that House de Sardet’s name remains alive, and its fortune separate from her husband’s noble house.”

_My husband’s noble house._ She almost smiled at that, remembering how Kurt had introduced himself to Aphra. _Kurt,_ he had said, _Just Kurt._ _He did not even use his rank._ She couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would have thought if she had known. _I hope she would have been happy for me._

“I am sure that Lady de Renaud’s allegiances will remain with the House de Renaud, whoever she marries,” de Sardet spoke up. “As mine will remain with House de Sardet.”

“And House d’Orsay, undoubtedly?”

“We are all loyal to the Prince of the Congregation.” It was the ultimate diplomatic answer, saying absolutely nothing, but there was nothing Isabelle could say against it – but Alexandra de Sardet was tired of diplomacy. “It has been a long time, and we were never friends. Why come to talk to me now?”

Her bluntness startled both Sylvie de Nicolet and Isabelle de Renaud, but Isabelle recovered first. “Only to say this: that you should consider accepting my brother. Allying with the Bridge is a fool’s errand, and one I wouldn’t expect from you, considering how they killed your beloved cousin. You may hate me and despise Henri, but I would hardly expect you to choose Sir de Betancourt or the Prince de Beliveau out of spite.” She tossed her head back, unable to refrain from a jab. “Though perhaps you ought to consider Sir d’Ailes. That unsightly mark on his face would match the one on yours. An old dueling scar and a hideous birthmark!”

“We aren’t ten years old any longer,” de Sardet observed. Once, the remark might have hurt, but now it only made her think of Kurt’s scars, and of the way he’d pressed his hand against her face as he’d kissed her. “Or even twenty, since I know you never stopped saying such things.” 

“Your uncle is going to settle matters with the Bridge Alliance soon, or so they say. If he does that, he ought to grant concessions to those of us who favor Theleme.”

“Or what?” Lady de Nicolet asked mildly. “You will invite the Inquisition into our streets? Encourage rioting among the common folk? Attempt to depose the Prince d’Orsay?”

“There will be consequences,” Isabelle replied grandly. Apparently, that was the entirety of the message she wished to send, because she looked de Sardet in the eye once more, her lip curled back in contempt, repeated, “Consider Henri’s proposal. It won’t be long now before your uncle asks, I’m sure,” and flounced away.

“Did my mother ever speak of my marriage?” de Sardet asked Lady de Nicolet as soon as Isabelle de Renaud was out of earshot. “Either before her illness or after. She knew that my uncle had planned for me to travel to Teer Fradee, and I had wondered if you might have known what she intended.”

Lady de Nicolet gave her a sympathetic look. “Before her illness, your mother had made no plans for your marriage. As you say, she had always known that her brother planned to send you to Teer Fradee, and thought that any decisions of that sort would best be saved until after your return…if indeed you chose to return, of course. By the time of her death, she had hoped otherwise; she had hoped you would find a new home on Teer Fradee, far from the court.” She paused, her gaze following Isabelle de Renaud, who was reporting back to her mother and brother. “Far from your uncle, and all the schemers and the sycophants who populate this court.”

“For what it’s worth, I have,” de Sardet said. “I have been very happy on Teer Fradee, despite all I have learned there…or perhaps because of it.”

“I hope you bear your mother no resentment for not speaking to you sooner. She was so afraid you would.” Lady de Nicolet reached out, taking de Sardet’s hand in hers. “She regretted not speaking to you before she left. Her illness made her weak, she said, and she feared you would despise you. She did not want you to leave her on bad terms.”

“I do not despise her.” De Sardet found herself blinking back tears. “I could never. My poor mother…”

“She loved you very much. She always wanted what was best for you.” Releasing de Sardet’s hand, Lady de Nicolet added, “That was why she refused to consider arranging a marriage. If it brings you any consolation, there was no shortage of young men who asked for your hand.”

“For political reasons,” de Sardet replied, thinking of Luc de Papillon, with his curling mustache and neatly manicured hands. “They wanted to wed the niece of the Prince d’Orsay.”

“Your mother thought the same. More than anything, she hoped you would find someone who loved you for yourself, someone who would bring you the same happiness that she found with Alexandre.” De Nicolet cast a glance around the room. “I trust that you will find someone on that island, for you will certainly never do so here. None of the men your uncle seeks to wed you to are worthy of your hand. Not Sir d’Ailes, the Prince de Beliveau, or Sir de Betancourt…and most certainly not Sir de Renaud.”

“I don’t understand,” said de Sardet. “Why would Lady Isabelle press me to accept her brother’s hand? She despises me, and I am sure her brother does as well. House de Sardet is wealthy, and I know they desire the connection to my uncle, but…I don’t even think she likes Henri,” she said, watching Isabelle speaking with her brother. “I hardly know why she would want me to accept him.” She paused. “I still cannot believe that my uncle would have wed her to Constantin.”

“It was your aunt’s project as much as his. She was always close to the Princess de Renaud…at least, as close as the Princess d’Orsay could be to anyone. Heloise was a viper, but so is Marguerite.”

“And Isabelle takes after them.”

“Most certainly. She must have been deeply wounded when she heard of your cousin’s death. It was only the last in a long line of personal disappointments,” said Sylvie de Nicolet. “Her own family has waited to arrange her own marriage, and there were several times a potential engagement failed to materialize. Sir de Papillon, Sir d’Amboise, even Sir de Brossard…before her mother reached for that marriage to your cousin, I believe there were three or perhaps even four potential husbands who had slipped through her grasp.”

“I doubt that she was ever truly disappointed. I cannot imagine she was ever in love with any of them.”

“Only with the idea of power. After all, a woman from such a powerful house, unwed and approaching the age of twenty-seven, who has thrice failed to become a bride? People talk, and that she could not stand.” 

De Sardet touched her cheek with her hand. “Then I suppose I shouldn’t ask what they’re saying of me.”

“There was speculation that your cousin would attempt something foolish while you were alone together on that island…and talk that your mother had blocked all previous proposals. As she had in truth, though not for any of the reasons that were bruited about.”

De Sardet only half-heard; she was still thinking of Isabelle de Renaud, trying to untangle her motivations and House de Renaud’s plans. “What reason could she possibly have for wanting me to marry her brother?”

“Besides the obvious? The power and status that will come from wedding the heir apparent to the Congregation, and the only heir of House de Sardet?” Sylvie de Nicolet didn’t wait for her answer. “There have been rumors that may explain it.”

“Rumors? From who, and about what?” Constantin had always been better at gleaning rumors from around the palace than Alexandra had; since her return to Serene, she’d missed him all the more, remembering all the stories he would tell her. _I half-expect him to slip into my rooms one morning bursting with the latest gossip, or to some leaping around some corner practically overcome with excitement._ Even now, when her grief had largely faded, there were moments when it became acute.

The feeling faded as Lady de Nicolet discreetly gestured to Sir de Courcillon, who was speaking to one of the Bridge Alliance’s envoys. “I have long known Henri de Courcillon…and he has long known many of those in high places at this court. He was a dear friend of Alexandre’s, a very long time ago…long before the Prince d’Orsay made him your tutor, and Constantin’s. For a man whose family fell from the heights of power generations ago, he has done well for himself; House de Courcillon may no longer rank among the princes of the Congregation, but he has raised both its fortunes and influence.”

“The rumors,” de Sardet prompted her. “You were saying?”

“Forgive me. Ah, yes, the rumors…Henri told me that he has heard that Augustin is considering who to appoint as governor of Teer Fradee. You know that he will not permit Laurine de Morange to continue in that role; he is suspicious of House de Morange, and more so of Lady de Morange, who I understand gave your cousin that poisoned cup.”

“She had no knowledge of it,” said de Sardet. “I promise you that; I questioned her myself. She is innocent, though she feels terribly guilty.”

“The Prince d’Orsay may not be as convinced. Even if he is, well…it is convenient for him to blame House de Morange, even if he cannot punish her. They will not retain the governor’s posting, nor even a semblance of the prince’s favor.”

“Lady de Morange told me as much before I left. Has my uncle decided on a new candidate?”

“That is what the rumors are saying,” de Nicolet replied. “They say that your uncle is looking for a husband for you…and whichever faction does not receive the honor of your hand will be given the governor’s posting as a consolation prize. If you accept one of the Bridge’s candidates, House de Renaud will have the posting…and it is rumored that the Princess de Renaud would send the more skilled of her children to take the posting, not the heir apparent.”

“You’re saying she’d send Isabelle?”

“Well, Henri would certainly make for a spectacular failure. House de Morange and House de Renaud have never been allies; he would never accept Lady de Morange’s guidance the way that your cousin did. Isabelle at least has some sense…if no compassion. The Princess de Renaud would, of course, claim that she was granting the favor to her daughter because she would prefer to keep the heir to House de Renaud in Serene, but everyone will know the truth…except perhaps Sir de Renaud himself, who has a higher opinion of himself than he deserves.”

_Isabelle de Renaud as governor of New Serene._ “No,” de Sardet said, utterly dismayed. _All of the work I’ve done, all my hopes…_ “He can’t appoint her.”

“If you choose Henri de Renaud, of course, he would appoint someone like Sir de Betancourt,” de Nicolet said.

“And if I choose neither?”

A smile played upon Lady de Nicolet’s lips. “Then perhaps Augustin will have to make other plans, for once. I certainly hope he will.”

De Sardet returned her smile. “I intend to be happy,” she said, then lowered her voice. “I hope to return to Teer Fradee. It has become my home.”

“I am glad. Your mother would be glad as well, if she knew…and proud, I think. So very proud.”

The warmth and sincerity in her voice made de Sardet’s heart swell; Sylvie de Nicolet had known her mother better than anyone in the Congregation, and she spoke with honesty. _That alone is a rarity here._

The thought made her homesick. “If you hear anything more of my uncle’s plans for me, or of any of his plans,” she pressed, “I would be very much obliged if you could inform me. Without my mother or my cousin, I feel so alone here sometimes, and as you know there are few people I can trust—”

“I am honored you feel you can trust me.”

“You were always Mother’s closest friend. How could I not? She always confided everything in you.”

Lady de Nicolet nodded, and de Sardet could tell that she knew what she was referring to. “I am sure she confided in no one else.”

“Sir de Courcillon,” de Sardet began, but de Nicolet nodded.

“Henri de Courcillon was ever Alexandre’s friend. I am not surprised to find that he is yours, as well…but he is rather more fearful of your uncle than I would like. Trust him, but be prudent not to say too much, for fear he may slip up and reveal more than you intend. He is a well-educated man, with knowledge of many secrets of both House d'Orsay and the Congregation itself, but court politics were never his strongest point.”

“I have hardly seen him since our arrival.” Sir de Courcillon had been drawn into her uncle’s negotiations with the Bridge; he had spent much of his time closeted with lesser members of their delegation, where de Sardet had found herself entirely excluded. That stung, though she wondered if her uncle had his reasons for keeping her away.

 _I wonder if he fears I might find myself unable to restrain my anger about what Doctor Asili did to Constantin, or the way that Governor Burhan closed his eyes to all the crimes his people committed on the island. Or he believes that their delegation would not look kindly on the woman who insisted on bringing their revered doctor to justice._ Even thinking of the way that Burhan had defended Asili made her clench her jaw in anger.

“I know my uncle will have his reasons for keeping me in the dark, but it doesn’t make it any easier,” she admitted. “If you hear anything about his plans, anything at all—”

“I will tell you immediately, I promise.” De Nicolet pressed her hand against de Sardet’s once more. “Now, Princess, we should both mingle with others, or they’ll suspect we’re plotting something together.”

“Aren’t we?”

“Only if securing your happiness counts as such.” Sylvie de Nicolet squeezed her hand gently. “I am glad we spoke. But you ought to seek out those with more influence and status than I…a mere widow of a younger son of the House de Nicolet, whose greatest influence came from her devotion to your mother.” 

“There is no noblewoman here I would rather have spoken with.” De Sardet let go of her hand, bowing her head. “Unless you believe that I would prefer the company of Lady de Renaud?” That drew a last smile from Sylvie de Nicolet before she inclined her head and moved away.

As she left, Kurt moved closer. He had been watching her from a distance for both conversations, but now, she thought they might have a few moments of relative privacy. “Are you all right, Green Blood? I saw Lady Isabelle approach, and I know how much you hate her. She can’t have been pleasant.”

“She didn’t.” De Sardet sighed. “She has never been kind.” She managed a smile. “But you’ve always been able to make me feel better.” She rubbed at her birthmark. “I still remember you telling me that you had your scars, I had my birthmark, and that neither were anything to be ashamed of.” She had been ten then, and driven to tears by Lady Isabelle’s taunts. “You were so kind.”

“I remember.” She’d been sitting on the palace steps with her knees drawn up to her chin; Kurt had sat down next to her, asking what was wrong. Kurt had been nineteen then, newly appointed as the master-at-arms, and she thought he had been at something of a loss on how to deal with a sobbing ten-year-old girl. But his best efforts had been enough to make her smile, and she’d decided then that she liked the new master-at-arms. _Even then, he could always make me feel better._ Another memory came to her then, one far more recent, and she had to smile. 

"What is it, Green Blood? I doubt you're thinking of Lady Isabelle." 

"Not exactly. I was thinking of something else you'd said to me, more recently." She'd spoken of some of her insecurities to Kurt while abed, early in their relationship, and had recalled Isabelle's taunts about her boyish figure. Kurt had reassured her, telling her how lovely she was with sincerity that she hadn't been able to doubt him, promising her that there was nothing about her he'd change. _It wasn't only what he said, but the way he looked at me...it was enough that I couldn't doubt he found me beautiful._ "Nothing she could say could hurt me in the same way again." De Sardet managed a smile. "She may find me hideous, but her opinion isn't the one that matters." 

“Her opinion is wrong," Kurt said flatly, and she was touched by his anger on her behalf. "If you ask me, she's the ugly one. Is she still as terrible as ever?”

“Well, she didn’t call me ‘Lady Moldy’ this time,” said de Sardet.

“Did she call you ‘Princess Moldy?’” Kurt managed to sound completely serious, and managed to maintain a straight face for a long moment before he smirked. “She always was completely insufferable.”

“She wanted to convince me to marry her brother.”

“Well, that’s a fool’s errand. Though why she thinks she’d be the one to do it, I’ve no idea. She’d be just as likely to drive you into the arms of one of the Bridger lords.” He paused. “Do you think that’s why she did it? Is it some larger game?”

“I doubt it. She seemed sincere, and Lady de Nicolet told me that she had her reasons.” De Sardet paused. “I think that she’s worried about being named governor if I don’t marry him. She doesn’t want to leave Serene.”

“Little Lady Isabelle, out in the wilds of Teer Fradee,” Kurt snorted. “Or forced to hold court in New Serene, where nothing is quite as fancy as she’d like it.”

“I cannot imagine her dealing with the natives. Or the Nauts, for that matter. Can you imagine her on the voyage?”

“Hardly.” Kurt smiled, but sobered abruptly. “You don’t think she was trying to poison you, do you?”

“No. Kurt, I’m fine, I promise you.”

“You’re still not eating breakfast. Or keeping it down, if you are. Even the change of fare hasn't helped.” De Sardet had been dutifully eating the meals Kurt brought her from the barracks; she hadn't asked if he was preparing them himself, though she'd eaten enough of his cooking on Teer Fradee that she wouldn't have been surprised if he was. 

“It isn’t poison. She’d have nothing to gain.” De Sardet lifted a hand to her cheek. “And Siora says I’m resistant, and you've already consulted Aphra.” Kurt didn’t look satisfied with her answer, and she sighed. “Kurt, if I was being poisoned, I’d be losing weight. With all the dinners we’ve attended, I think the opposite is true. By the time we return, I fear that all my doublets will be too tight.” She patted his arm. “Let’s go talk to Sir de Courcillon. Maybe he can confirm what Lady de Nicolet told me.”

Sir de Courcillon had moved from the Bridge’s delegation to Theleme’s; de Sardet was glad to see him with Petrus.

“Your Eminence, Sir de Courcillon,” she said, approaching them with Kurt trailing behind. “I apologize for the interruption, but I needed to speak with you. I have just been speaking with Lady de Nicolet, and she has informed me of some rumors regarding my uncle’s plans for Teer Fradee. Specifically, for the governorship.”

De Courcillon’s face slackened immediately, and she saw the dismay in his eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”

 _For all that he has survived for decades at this court, he is a terrible liar._ She hoped that he hadn't revealed anything regarding her marriage to her uncle. _I'm certain he hasn't; if he had, he would hardly be able to conceal it now._

“She means that her uncle is talking about putting one of the de Renauds on the island if he can’t put the other into her bed,” Kurt said bluntly. “And if he marries her to a de Renaud, he’ll put one of the Bridger lords on the island to govern.” De Sardet turned to look at him, startled, and saw from the set of his mouth that he was upset.

Petrus and de Courcillon both saw it too. Petrus knew of their relationship, but not their marriage; de Courcillon knew of their marriage, but had been far enough removed from de Sardet that he hadn’t noticed the romance until they were literally signing the marriage contract. _If only I could find the time and the privacy, I could tell him,_ she thought. She wanted nothing more than to share the news with Petrus; though he had initially been the least-supportive of her companions, fearing the Prince d'Orsay's reaction, he had come to support them wholeheartedly. _He would help us, when my uncle discovers the truth...but I must find a way to tell him._

That, she knew, would not be now, in the middle of a crowded room where dozens of others might overhear.

“Calm, my son,” Petrus urged him. “You know that nothing of the sort will come to pass.”

“And what will happen when it doesn’t? What will they do then? Is there any truth in the rumors?”

“I believe there is,” de Courcillon said. “Your uncle has spoken of granting concessions to both factions, and has spoken of the governor’s posting as a tool he might use in soothing ruffled feathers when it comes to naming his next heir. I even believe he may award the legate’s post for the same reason.”

“I am the legate of the Congregation of Merchants on Teer Fradee,” de Sardet protested.

“Yes, but if you remain in Serene—”

It was her turn to be upset. “I cannot. I will not.”

“I do not pretend to know your uncle’s intentions. As always, I believe that he plans for many ends.”

De Sardet knew that was true, but she also knew that it was no consolation. _Always to be a pawn. Always manipulated. I thought those days were done._

“His plans have merit, from a political standpoint,” said Petrus. “The rumors are that your uncle intends to grant the governorship to whichever faction does not win your hand. If you were then to return to New Serene to continue your service as legate, the governor’s post would be held by a member of one faction, while the legate’s would be held by another. And, as you are your uncle’s heir presumptive, if you did win the election to become the next Princess of the Congregation upon his death, the power of Teer Fradee would be concentrated in one faction’s hands, while the power of the mainland would be in another.”

“I am surprised that my uncle would do such a thing. He was unhappy that House de Morange had begun to amass power on the island; I can hardly see him granting House de Beliveau or House d’Ailes a foothold.” She paused. “Or House de Renaud, for that matter.” Her gaze followed Isabelle, who was speaking to her brother.

“He might consider things very differently if he was allied by marriage to whichever house held the island,” de Courcillon said. “And, of course, you would be there, watching over everything for him, prepared to intervene if the balance of power appeared to change.”

“Of course,” said de Sardet, but she was still upset.

“My child,” Petrus said warmly, “you know that I wish for your happiness in all things. Your uncle may appoint a new governor, but he cannot make other decisions that affect your life without your consent. You still have the opportunity to decide your own fate.”

_I already have,_ she wanted to tell him. _I’ve married Kurt._

“Your uncle’s negotiations with the Bridge Alliance should be concluding soon. I would suggest speaking to him when they are done,” said Petrus. “By then, he should be willing to confide his plans in you…and if he isn’t, then perhaps you should tell him of your own plans, and ask leave to return to New Serene.”

De Sardet nodded. “That sounds to me like an excellent plan.”


	16. Chapter 16

That plan was quickly derailed. Despite Kurt insisting on bringing her a plate from the barracks kitchen, de Sardet’s nausea persisted; he also brought her a remedy from Aphra, and then the ingredients to attempt making a remedy of her own, as she’d developed a great deal of skill in what Kurt affectionately called ‘potion-brewing’ during her time on Teer Fradee.

“I’m not being poisoned, Kurt,” she insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. “It only happens in the morning, and it’s gone soon enough. Ginger root tea seems to work best.”

“If it’s not poison, then what?” But de Sardet had no answer for him.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, Your Highness,” her maid said a few mornings later, when she’d woken up and started retching despite not having eaten anything at all.

“The change in diet, I think. I don’t think my stomach has been at ease since we got off the ship.” Again, she was uneasily aware that it was the same excuse Constantin had used, but she knew that it wasn’t the malichor, and while she wasn’t sure why, her intuition told her it wasn’t poison.

_My uncle has enemies, but I don’t. No one here would want to poison me._ Not only that, but she shared a food taster with her uncle; she ate what he ate, and he was perfectly well.

“I’ve heard that ship travel can produce all sorts of problems. Maybe that’s why you haven’t had your month’s blood.”

It was as if the last piece in a puzzle had fallen into place. “I’m sorry?” she managed, her mind churning.

“Your monthly courses, Your Highness. It’s going on two months since you got here, but you haven’t had to ask for rags, and your sheets have been clean.”

“Oh,” she said, and then, to avoid arousing suspicion, added, “I hadn’t noticed. Truthfully, I’ve always been irregular; I understand that my mother had the same problem.”

“That’s true, I’d think. Everyone always knew she had feminine problems. All those miscarriages…” The maid clapped a hand over her mouth. “Not to imply that you’d have those troubles, Your Highness.”

“No,” de Sardet said. “Of course not.” _My problem appears to be the opposite._ Despite what she’d said, her cycle had always been regular: four days of bleeding every four weeks, like clockwork.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t mention this,” she said. “I know that my uncle has been considering arranging a marriage for me, and I’m certain that there will be questions about fertility, particularly considering my mother’s troubles. I know well that there are those who will offer you coin for the information, but if you would refrain from doing anything that might jeopardize his plans, I would be most grateful.” De Sardet paused. “And, of course, there are those who might attempt to imply some sort of scandal, or blemish my reputation. I certainly wouldn’t want that.”

“Well, I’d know better. It isn’t as if you’ve had any nighttime visitors,” the maid said, then clapped another hand over her mouth. “Not that I’d tell if you had. But I know you’ve kept your honor.”

“In any case, I’d be grateful if you kept your own, and refrained from speaking of my laundry to anyone who asks…even my uncle, if he inquires.” _Especially my uncle,_ she wanted to say.

“Certainly, Your Highness. Though the laundresses might talk.” The servant’s eyes lit up. “Though I might mix my own rags in with the laundry. They won’t talk then. I promise you, Your Highness, I’m a good and loyal servant to House d’Orsay, and to House de Sardet as well. I’m grateful for my position.”

“Yes,” de Sardet said, though she was so distracted she hardly knew what the panicked servant was saying: her mind was too consumed with her own panic. “Thank you.”

She managed to maintain her composure until the servant left, but once she had gone, de Sardet was left to her own thoughts. _My last cycle ended…how long ago? A week before we made port? Two weeks?_ Time had a way of blending together aboard the ship, but she was fairly confident it had been between one and two weeks before they’d landed. She hadn’t been with Kurt since arriving in Serene, but she’d been with him nearly every night during the voyage there. _That would mean that it could have been any time in those two weeks, and we’ve been here for well over a month, which means…could it be two months, or perhaps even more?_

“But how?” she murmured. Aphra had provided her with the recipe for an elixir that she had used for herself in the past, and she’d been taking it faithfully. _How will I know for certain?_

Kurt greeted her that morning looking worried. “Your maid wouldn’t take your breakfast in,” he said. “Said you couldn’t stomach it.”

De Sardet couldn’t bring herself to tell him. _It might be nothing,_ she told herself. _A false alarm. It might truly be the change in diet and climate._ But she hadn’t had difficulties when traveling from the Congregation to Teer Fradee, and she had a feeling that her suspicions were correct. _They usually are._ She’d always had good instincts, and they’d only improved during her time on Teer Fradee. Aphra had once suggested that her connection to the island had made her more attuned to the world around her, but de Sardet thought that it was more than that: she simply paid more attention to her surroundings, and to herself, than most.

_But if I am right, how can I tell Kurt?_ Immediately after she’d helped Kurt reveal the truth about Reiner’s death, she’d asked him if he’d ever wanted children; his concern for Reiner was almost fatherly, and she’d been touched by how much he’d cared for him. Kurt had told her that he hadn’t ever considered it; he didn’t want to raise children if it meant they would be subjected to a soldier’s life, the only life he’d ever known. _What if he doesn’t want children? What if he’s upset?_

De Sardet was worried, but she found that she wasn’t unhappy. _I do want children,_ she thought. _I wanted to be with Kurt more, and I wouldn’t have held it against him if he’d never changed his mind, but I hoped he’d realize that he would be a great father._

But she had wanted children later: at a time of her choosing, and of Kurt’s, when they were safely back on Teer Fradee. _Not here, in Serene, surrounded by danger._ And, she realized, if she was to have her child in Teer Fradee, they would have to leave Serene far sooner than she had expected. _It takes between three to four months to sail from Serene to New Serene – rather shorter when leaving Serene, and rather longer when returning, but we have to leave four months for the journey._ She wanted to leave longer, if possible: she would not risk having her child born on a Naut ship. Any child born aboard a Naut ship was sea-born, belonging to the Nauts from the moment of their birth, and she would not risk that.

 _Vasco is my friend, and he loves me dearly, but I don’t believe he would break that custom, even for me._ It was the law of the sea, strictly insisted upon by the Nauts; when the Prince d’Orsay had broken it to keep Alexandra herself, the Nauts had insisted on dozens of children being given in return, and even then it had strained relations between the Nauts and the Congregation for years, nearly to the breaking point.

 _If I’m more than two months along now, and I want to arrive in Serene before my ninth month begins, and we have to leave four months for the journey…what if I've miscalculated? What if I've misremembered the last time I bled aboard the ship? I should have two months before we need to leave, but I can't risk being wrong. We'll need to leave as soon as possible._ _I would be happier leaving today._ That would have been true even if she hadn’t been pregnant, but the thought gave a certain urgency to her decisions. _If you are pregnant,_ she told herself. _You can’t be sure._

She knew that she could hardly visit a doctor within the palace, or even without. _I have to find someone I can trust._ In the end, she knew she only had one choice: Aphra preferred botany, but she had medical training. “I want to visit Aphra,” she blurted to Kurt. “My nausea has persisted, and I’m hoping she might know some other remedy. I know you asked her about poison, and I'm sure it isn't that, but perhaps she'll be able to find some other cause if she examines me. I trust her more than any of my uncle's physicians." 

Kurt accompanied her, but in her panic, she hadn’t considered how she would get Aphra alone. _I don’t want to worry him unless I’m certain._

In the end, she ended up asking him to fetch Vasco from the harbor. “I want to see him, too. Tell him it’s urgent.”

As soon as she’d left, she asked Aphra, “Can we speak privately? In your room?”

“This isn’t about your nausea, is it?” Aphra asked as they shut the door. "Kurt spoke to me about it, and told me of the precautious he's been taking. I don't think it's poison." 

“Neither do I.” De Sardet told her about her suspicions. “But I took that elixir every day.”

“Have you been taking it since?”

“Not since I came ashore, but that shouldn’t matter. I haven’t been with Kurt since then.”

“Since when?”

“Since we were on the ship.”

“When on the ship, exactly?”

“The morning we arrived in Serene Harbor.”

Aphra gave her a look. “You have to take it every day. The effect becomes unreliable within a day or so of your last dose, and the current theories in the Bridge believe that pregnancy can occur for several days after the last act of intercourse.”

“Several days?”

“Three days to a week, depending on which expert you consult.” Aphra frowned, thinking. “There’s another matter I hadn’t considered. The recipe for fortifiers includes several herbs that might decrease the efficacy of that elixir.”

“You didn’t think to mention that sooner?”

“I didn’t think of it. I haven’t practiced any sort of medicine since I left Doctor Asili, and the medicinal properties of various herbs and animal products was always my area of expertise, not…child-bearing,” Aphra said, waving a hand indistinctly at De Sardet’s abdomen. “I’m a botanist, not a medical doctor.”

“But…can you tell? If I am?”

Aphra frowned. “Maybe. There are tests…reactions that might be produced if a certain animal substance is added to your urine…but the only true way to know would be to wait. You’ve only missed one course?”

“Yes,” de Sardet said, but she was already searching for the room’s chamber pot. “That certain animal substance you said you can use to test...do you have enough to perform a test?”

“Yes, but…it seems an overreaction to perform a test for a single missed course."

"Two," de Sardet said. "Maybe." Seeing Aphra's disapproving look, she said, "I'm not very late, if I am, but with the way time has flown since our arrival..."

"I wish I could say the same," Aphra muttered. "Ambassador Sahin sent an envoy to ask me if I'd like to come to the palace, but I told him I'd rather stay here for the time being." She eyed de Sardet. "You ought to be glad that I did; we certainly have more privacy here than we would in your uncle's palace." 

"I'm grateful for that as well. Though if I am, I suppose it won't matter, at least not for long. I'll have to find a way to tell him." 

"Presumably after Kurt," Aphra said tartly. "Though we're both getting ahead of ourselves. It could be nothing; sea voyages can cause irregularity, and if you are ill, that could be the cause. Have you noticed any symptoms aside from the nausea? A certain tenderness of the breasts, perhaps some bloating—”

“Yes," de Sardet admitted. 

"And does the nausea come at any particular time of day?" 

"In the mornings, just after waking. It usually improves as the day goes on." 

Aphra’s eyes widened. “I'd better perform that test, and you’d better be quick about it, if you want to have an answer before Kurt gets back. I assume you haven't told him your suspicions?" 

“I don’t want to tell him unless I’m certain.”

“Certain you’re pregnant? Or certain you want to keep it? If you’re not too far along, there are herbs—”

“I don’t want them,” said de Sardet. Despite everything, she knew it was true: despite the inconvenience, despite her panic, even her terror, she knew that if she was pregnant, she had no intentions of ending it. “Don’t even think it, Aphra.”

“It’s your choice.” Aphra raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who will have to spend the next nine months carrying a child. Well, seven or eight, at least, if you are.” 

De Sardet found the chamber pot and began unlacing her leggings. “I want to know before Kurt gets back. And whatever else you do, don’t say a word! If I am, I want to be able to tell him myself.” She ducked behind the privacy screen in the corner of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Aphra was frowning at a vial of urine.

“Well?” de Sardet demanded.

Aphra scrutinized the vial for another moment, then suddenly dipped her pinky finger in it and took a taste. She grimaced.

“ _Well?_ ”

“You’d better tell Kurt,” she said.


	17. Chapter 17

Fifteen minutes after that, Kurt arrived with Vasco in tow. “What is it?” Vasco asked. “My princely friend here said you had to talk to me. Urgently.”

De Sardet nodded. “I do. But if you could give me a moment with Kurt…upstairs, alone…”

Vasco gave her an odd look. “I don’t see why you wanted me here for that. The two of you never seemed the type to want an audience.”

“It’s not that…it’s just…” Normally so skilled with words, de Sardet was so flustered she couldn’t finish a sentence.

“Let them go,” Aphra said, coming to her defense.

“Green Blood? What is it?” Kurt grew more concerned as they left the tavern’s taproom and climbed the stairs. Entering Aphra’s room, she locked the door before she sat down on the bed.

“Kurt…come here…” She patted the bed.

Kurt looked utterly bewildered. “Now I’m very confused about why you asked me to get Vasco.”

“Sit down,” she said, with a mix of fondness and frustration. A burst of laughter came from her lips, surprising her, and then she burst into tears, utterly racked by the sort of shuddering sobs that left her gasping for breath.

“My sweet Excellency…Alexandra…what’s wrong?” Kurt looked utterly helpless. “I know you came here to ask Aphra’s advice about something, but…are you sick?” A look of absolute terror came into his eyes. “It…it isn’t the malichor, is it? Or something more serious? You’re not…”

“Dying? No,” she said, looking up at him. “Oh, Kurt, it isn’t that. It’s…” She swallowed, trying to catch her breath, and mustered all the composure she could. “I know you said that you never wanted to be a father…”

“I never wanted to any child of mine to have a childhood like mine, raised by a prostitute and taken by the Guard as soon as they were old enough to hold a sword,” he said. “It’s no way for a child to grow up.” Only then did she see the realization begin to dawn in his eyes. “But…never say never, I said. Sometimes I’d think about holding a child of my own in my arms…and then, when I started to imagine the future, I started to think about what it might be like with you…but…” Comprehension hit. “Are you saying—”

She nodded, and started to cry again. “I’m pregnant. Kurt—”

De Sardet had mentally prepared herself for him to be upset, even angry. She’d imagined his surprise, utter shock giving way to demands about how it had happened. She’d imagined his worry about what they would do, how they would tell the Prince d’Orsay, what would happen once they did.

She hadn’t ever imagined seeing a wide smile spread across his face, or hearing a disbelieving laugh that matched her own. “That’s…that’s wonderful,” he managed, staring at her. “You’re certain?”

“As certain as I can be.” She explained her symptoms, her missed course, Aphra’s test, her explanation about the elixir. “I think it might have happened that last night on the ship. That would mean I’m about five weeks along. But it could be as much as six or seven, if Aphra’s theories are wrong.”

Kurt was still grinning. “That’s wonderful,” he said again. “You and I…we’re going to have a child. Our child.” He embraced her, then kissed her, then embraced her again. “I’m so glad.” He hesitated. “You were truly worried I’d be upset?”

“You’d said—”

“Months and months ago, when I didn’t think it was possible I could ever have a family with you. And even then… _never say never_ , I said, not _never_. Since we were first together…and especially since we wed…I’ve been thinking more on it, and I knew I wanted to have a family with you, if you’d let me. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t think we’d have the chance to start a family until we got back to New Serene, and I wasn’t even sure that you’d want to have children with me.”

“How could you question that? I love you, Kurt, and I know you’ll be a terrific father.”

“After everything I’ve been through—”

“After everything you’ve been through, you deserve to be happy,” she told him. She knew that Kurt’s injuries from the ghost camp came more from what Hermann had done to him than any beating he’d ever received; even now, some part of him still thought he was damaged, that what Hermann had done somehow made him unworthy of being loved. De Sardet had largely put those fears to rest; she hadn’t heard him voice such a sentiment in months.

She ran her hand through his hair, resting her forehead against his. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to marry, and the only one I’d ever want to have children with,” she told him. “You’ll be a wonderful father.” Taking his hand, she pressed it against her abdomen, letting it rest there.

“But…you’re not happy,” he said slowly, brushing the tears from her cheeks with his other hand.

“I’m afraid,” she confessed. “Kurt…don’t you see? We’ll have to tell my uncle now, and…”

“Whatever happens, happens,” he said. “That’s why you called Vasco here, isn’t it? You’re thinking of running.”

She hadn’t been, not immediately, but suddenly the prospect was rising before her. “We could,” she said. “We could ask him to lift anchor and sail with the tide. We could be gone before anyone realizes we’re gone. We could even send someone to the palace for Petrus—”

“And leave Siora here, and your aunt, and all the rest of them?”

The dream vanished, and Kurt pulled her close. “We’ll tell your uncle the truth. After that, whatever happens, happens. We have our contract; we have each other. If we have to, we can always take refuge aboard Vasco’s ship; he might not be able to sail away with the tide, but you’re sea-born; he’ll protect you.”

“And you?”

“I can protect myself.”

De Sardet shook her head. “No. If anything happened to you – no,” she said again, overcome by sudden fear.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. My sweet Excellency,” Kurt said, stroking her hair as he reassured her. “But I can’t let anything happen to you, either. Either of you.”

The mention of the baby made her smile through her tears; seeing her smile, Kurt smiled back. “I love you so much. We’ll face whatever comes.”

“We have to leave soon,” she told him. “I can’t have the baby here, and I can’t risk having it on the Naut ship…but it’s four months to Teer Fradee…”

“Let me get Vasco.” Kurt disappeared, returning a few moments later with both Vasco and Aphra.

“Vasco,” de Sardet began. “I’m—”

“I know. Aphra told me.”

“You only said I couldn’t tell Kurt,” Aphra said, seeing the looks that both de Sardet and Kurt gave her. 

Vasco raised an eyebrow. “To tell the truth, I’m surprised you found the time at that palace. Or enough privacy, for that matter.”

“It would have happened aboard the ship, before we docked,” said de Sardet. “We haven’t been together since.” Tears came to her eyes. “It hardly matters. I don’t want to give birth in Serene. I can’t.”

“And you can’t give birth on a Naut ship, either,” Vasco said. “I know the two of you won’t want your child to be sea-born.”

“I won’t let the Nauts take our child,” said Kurt.

“Then don’t have them on a Naut ship.”

“I need to go home,” said de Sardet. “I want to leave as soon as we can, but—”

“I know what it’s like to be taken from my family, and you may be the only sea-born that’s ever been taken from us, but it can’t happen again,” Vasco said. “If it happened and I tried to let you go, the crew would mutiny. Nauts take the law of the sea seriously.”

_Fifty-two children._ That was how many children the Nauts had supposedly required to let the Prince d’Orsay keep Arelwin’s infant: forty commoners and a dozen nobles. _I could never provide that ransom._

“Then I can’t give birth on a Naut ship,” de Sardet said. “I need to go home as soon as possible.”

“How soon can you leave?” Kurt asked him.

“We’re supposed to leave with a full hold,” said Vasco. “We don’t know when we’re leaving yet, so our ships haven’t even begun taking on cargo, and in any case that cargo would have to make it through the customs—”

“How long?” Kurt’s voice became a growl.

“Give me two days. It would take that long to recall my crew from leave in any case, and I’ll have to talk to Admiral Guerra. I’m sure he’ll grant permission if he learns it’s to help de Sardet—”

“What if he doesn’t?” De Sardet was still trying to contain her terror, but she knew it was plain on her face.

“Then we’ll weigh anchor anyway,” Vasco promised her. “That’s one good thing about being a fleet commander: I can make my own decisions.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“If they strip me of rank, I’d still have the _Sea Horse_. And I’ve been scullied before, if you remember.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble for my sake.”

“Let me worry about that,” said Vasco. “After everything you’ve done for me, let me do this for you.”

“If your uncle reacts the way you think he will, you may be grateful,” Aphra said.

“I’ll go with you,” said Kurt.

“No,” de Sardet said. “I have to do this myself. It’ll be better that way.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll go to his rooms, ask for a private audience. You should stay outside,” she told him, “but I need to be the one to break the news.” 

“Should we wait until you have the ship ready?” Kurt asked.

“It might be better,” Vasco agreed.


	18. Chapter 18

The next two days of waiting were nearly impossible for de Sardet. She was distracted with worry, barely able to focus, and she could tell that Petrus was worried. Given how busy he was, she had no idea of how she could speak with him privately.

In the end, it was Petrus who managed that: he invited de Sardet to take a tour of the church of the Enlightened that Theleme had built in Serene, and once there, invited her into the confessional.

“No one will listen here,” he said as she took a seat. “The seal of the confessional is absolute, and even the most dedicated intriguers in Theleme would never stoop so low as to eavesdrop on someone acting as the ear of the Enlightened." His mouth tightened into a thin line as he moved around to the opposite side. "I never imagined that Cornelia would dare speak of what I told her."

"I do not think she would ever have told anyone else," de Sardet replied. Cornelia had revealed to de Sardet that Petrus had known her mother, and that he had concealed that truth from her for all the months they had traveled together on Teer Fradee; indeed, Cornelia herself was the only one Petrus had ever entrusted with the secret, thinking that the truth would forever remain between him and the Enlightened. "Do you regret that she did so?" 

"No. At the time, I was angry, but...she was right," he admitted. "I should have told you far sooner. I wish I had. I hope you do not bear any anger toward me for concealing the truth for so long." 

"I did once, but not now." She paused. "I hope you won't be too angry with me for not speaking sooner. I wish I could have said something earlier, but there hasn't been a time or a place, and some of it I've just learned..."

"I understand completely," Petrus's voice was as warm as if she truly had been his daughter. "I would not have had you speak openly if it was not safe to do so, and there is scarcely any privacy at the Prince's Palace, or indeed in any halls of power; that is true whether you are in a palace in Serene, Al Saad, or the Holy City of Light itself. Now, tell me, what is wrong?”

Remembering the circumstances of when and how Petrus had met her mother, she had intended to choose her words carefully, knowing it might be a shocking revelation to the cardinal; of all their friends, Petrus was the only one who hadn’t been present for her wedding, having already departed for Theleme to receive his cardinal’s hat. _I never told him we married._ She had never had the chance; they had spent a great deal of time together, but always with others watching, always listening. Part of her wanted to break the news carefully, in stages, informing him first of the marriage and then of her pregnancy.

But her worries had weighed so heavily on her in the last days that the words came tumbling out. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted, and then added quickly, “Kurt and I were married aboard the _Sea Horse_ just before we sailed for Serene. Vasco performed the ceremony. I hope you’re not angry.”

Petrus was shocked into silence for several moments longer than Kurt, Aphra, or Vasco had been. Finally, he asked, “Why would I be angry, my child?”

“I thought that you might have wanted to perform the ceremony,” she admitted. “But there was no time, and I didn’t want to come to Serene and risk having my uncle try to marry me to some lord of the Congregation, and—”

“Had I been there, I might have suggested that your marriage would prove no hindrance to his aims, if he is truly determined,” Petrus said. “Even if I had been, I could not perform a marriage if neither bride nor groom worships the Enlightened, although I am sorry not to have been able to witness the ceremony. But while I am happy for you, and for Kurt, I question your decision to start a family now, in Serene, before you’ve revealed the truth to your uncle or—”

“It was an accident.” She had no desire to give the details to Petrus, but she told him that she had taken precautions, and that there had been a mishap. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but now I only have a month or two to leave Serene, because the baby can’t be born on a Naut ship, but I can’t stay here, and—”

“Calm down, my child.” The confessional had a partition that was normally raised, providing a complete barrier between priest and penitent; Petrus had left it down while they spoke, and now he pushed it aside entirely. “Have you considered seeking refuge in Theleme? It would not take months to reach by ship, and you would be safe from your uncle there, if you do indeed have cause to fear him.”

“I want to go home,” she said plaintively. “To Teer Fradee.”

Petrus looked at her, and he looked as if he was staring a thousand years into the past. “Those were some of the first words your mother ever spoke to me,” he said, very quietly, then took her hand. “I did not understand then what Teer Fradee was or where it might be, but even then, I wanted to do everything I could to help her. I promise you, Alexandra, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are safely returned home. Whatever the cost.”

“I have to tell him,” she said. “My uncle.”

“When?”

“Tonight.” She had asked to meet him for dinner, privately, and had been surprised when he had agreed; she had expected him to counter with a morning meeting or perhaps dinner in a few nights.

“Will Kurt be with you?”

“I’ve asked him to wait in the hall.”

“You might ask him to wait with a few of his men,” Petrus suggested. “If your uncle’s first reaction is to throw him into the palace dungeons, you’ll want to be able to help him.”

“I don’t want my uncle to think I’m attempting a coup.”

“Then perhaps I’ll attempt to pay him a visit. What time is your meeting?”

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “If it does come to that…if you, a cardinal of Theleme, attack the Prince d’Orsay…”

“A terrible misunderstanding,” Petrus suggested. “I’m sure Theleme will find some way to disavow my actions, much as your uncle has disavowed Constantin’s.”

“As I disavowed Constantin’s, you mean.”

“Constantin’s attacks truly did have nothing to do with the Congregation,” Petrus pointed out. “Just as any attack I might perform would be of my own volition, and not in my role as cardinal.” He smoothed down the red robes. “Perhaps I should wear something else tonight.” He paused. “I know that you have undoubtedly arranged for Aphra’s departure, but what of Siora and the others?”

“Aphra went to hurry their return two days ago. They were already on their way back to Serene, so no one will think it unusual when they do return. They should arrive in the city by tonight.” De Sardet hoped that she would. “If they're delayed, then Vasco will keep one of his ships back for them. If worst comes to worst, they’d seek asylum with the Bridge Alliance, but I hope it won’t. My uncle has no reason to punish them.”

“I’ll also speak with Cardinal Josephus. He won’t be pleased about the prospect of ruining relations with the Congregation so early in his tenure, but he is a good man, and I believe he will do the right thing.”

“Thank you.” All de Sardet hoped was that, if she had to flee to the docks, that Vasco, Siora, Slan, Aphra, and all the _doneigada_ would be waiting there for her, and that Kurt and Petrus would be at her side.

They exited the confessional; Kurt was waiting there, the ever-present guard. Petrus looked him over, the over-protective father eyeing her husband, and for a moment de Sardet thought that he was going to chide him, either for marrying de Sardet or for her pregnancy.

Instead, Petrus walked over to Kurt and clasped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Major,” he said. “I’m glad for both of you. May the Enlightened protect and watch over you both.”

Kurt nodded. “Thank you,” he said.


	19. Chapter 19

After their return to the palace, time flew by far more quickly than de Sardet would have liked – and yet seemed to pass not at all. She changed for dinner, paced the floor, and tried to quell the nausea that she thought be due more to nerves than morning sickness.

The time came, and Kurt escorted her to her uncle’s room. “I’ll be here, Your Highness,” he told her, even as the guards at her uncle’s door both glowered, as if they thought his presence would be an insult to their skill.

“My dear niece,” the Prince d’Orsay called. “Come in. This must be a matter of great importance, for you to seek a private meeting.”

“It is,” she said.

“Hence why I have dismissed the servants. Dinner has already been served; the first course is plated, and the other courses await us beneath those covered dishes. I thought you would prefer privacy.” When de Sardet nodded, he said, “Let us begin, then, shall we? I know you prefer to avoid obfuscation.”

De Sardet sat down across from him, staring at her plate. She had no appetite. “I know that you promised me that I wouldn’t have to marry someone against my will,” she said, lifting a piece of meat to her lips.

“And I have kept that promise, as you well know. Oh, I’ve had you dine beside all your prospective bridegrooms, just enough to keep both rumor and hope alive, but there has been nothing serious. If you have any contacts within the nobility, I’m sure they have told you that I have frustrated all serious attempts at negotiating for your hand.”

De Sardet had no such contacts; her main sources of information within the court were the rumors Kurt heard in the barracks, what Sir de Courcillon or Lady de Nicolet related when she saw them, and whatever she could glean herself from state dinners, balls, and banquets. Petrus and his sources were invaluable, of course, but his arrival was far more recent, and, like all her friends, she hadn’t been able to see him as much as she would have liked.

What she did know suggested her uncle was telling the truth, so she nodded. “I’m glad of it,” she admitted. “Because such a marriage would never have been possible.”

“You sound as if this was more than a matter of inclination,” her uncle said.

“I feared that you would try to force me into a marriage once I returned to Serene. I thought that might be the reason you had ordered my recall. So I married before I left. The ceremony was appropriately conducted, the contract was signed and witnessed, and I have multiple copies of it, both here and in New Serene.” She reached for her water-glass.

“I know.”

De Sardet nearly dropped the glass. “What? You couldn’t have—”

“I suspected,” her uncle replied. “Your insistence on not marrying, your refusal to consider other options. At first I thought that you might have been overly fond of your cousin, but your rejection of that idea made it clear that your affections did not lie in that direction.”

“So I called Sir de Courcillon to my chambers and questioned him. He was terrified, but as evasive as he could possibly be, and it quickly became clear that my suspicions were correct. I will give him credit for this much: he refused to divulge a name, although I’m fairly certain he knows it. His loyalty to you was touching.” Augustin d’Orsay raised his glass. “In truth, you seem to inspire a strong degree of personal loyalty in everyone you meet. It really is quite impressive.”

“It has been a little over two months since your arrival. So, tell me: why are you disclosing this secret to me now? And who is your husband? Surely, he isn’t a nobleman of the Congregation; if it was, you wouldn’t have hesitated to come forward. Unless, of course, your reason for hesitation is that it’s a woman…although I must say, it would come as a surprise.”

De Sardet took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant,” she said. She wanted to look squarely at her plate, to avoid her uncle’s gaze, but instead she looked up and met those icy blue eyes.

Her uncle didn’t blink. “Was this some sort of statement? A misguided attempt to prevent me from marrying you to someone else?”

“An accident.”

“How careless. And you chose not to get rid of it?”

“No,” she said. She crossed her arms over her abdomen protectively. “I will not. I want this child.”

“You love the father.”

“Of course. That’s why we married.”

“It isn’t the native girl, then,” he mused. “Is it one of the native men? That Eamon? Or the older one, Ciran?”

“No.”

“That Naut fleet commander, then. The one who was part of the payment for you.”

“No – _what_?”

“Surely you knew. I kept a record of all the children I sold to pay that debt, and I’m sure the Nauts did as well. Leandre d’Arcy, second son of Florian and Lisette d’Arcy, newly weaned when they gave him to the Nauts. I forgave a rather substantial debt to house d’Arcy to convince them to do it, and even gave them the choice of which son they would rather give up. They chose the younger, which seems rather a shame, given how they turned out. It would have been a better deal had they sold Bastien.”

“Vasco was traded to the Nauts for me?”

“You never realized? Given the timing, the particulars of your heritage…I would have thought that you would not have been so surprised. Yes, your fleet commander was one of the dozen noble children that the Nauts named as their price for keeping you. He’s certainly turned out to be the most prominent of them all. Fleet commander well before thirty. That may be a record.”

De Sardet’s mouth opened and closed. _I have to tell Vasco._

“Is he the father? I thought that you might have known, and believed in some sort of romantic nonsense. Two children, linked by fate, each given the life the other might have led, reunited on a faraway island…it’s like a bad troubadour’s song, or perhaps a play by that poet-playwright Constantin loved so much.”

She took a deep breath, and was suddenly transported back to the palace of New Serene, facing Constantin. _It’s Kurt,_ she’d said, and Constantin had laughed in disbelief, asking her if she was joking. Constantin’s laughter had hurt her, but she feared a much worse reaction from his father.

“It’s Kurt,” she said.

D’Orsay’s eyes narrowed; it took him a moment to comprehend. “The Coin Guard? Your master-at-arms?”

“I love him,” she said, and was suddenly aware of how little that would mean to her uncle.

“I never had any inkling of impropriety from either of you in the palace. Nor did your mother, I am certain; she asked me to send him to Teer Fradee with you...and while she always placed your personal happiness over the Congregation's concerns, I cannot see her agreeing to this if she thought your relationship had even a hint of impropriety or scandal attached.”

“There never was any,” she said. “Kurt would never have thought of it, not while I was his student. I certainly never considered it. I never really knew him, not until we got to Teer Fradee, and he never saw me as anything but his pupil.”

“You spent more time in his company than anyone, save perhaps your cousin.”

“He spent that time standing in my shadow, watching over me, training me. A guard and a teacher, not a friend and equal.” She saw her uncle prepare to react to that, and she bristled. “Yes, a friend and equal. In Teer Fradee, we fought side-by-side, as equals. We saved each other’s lives. You can’t fight with someone without growing closer to them.”

“He saved us from the coup. If not for Kurt, Constantin and I would both have died that day. He could have obeyed orders and killed us himself, but he defended us both.”

“Because he loved you?”

“Because he’s an honorable man, a good man, and he could not live with himself if he followed those orders.” De Sardet took a breath. “But by the time the coup had ended, I think I loved him.”

“You think?”

“It was so gradual. I don’t know when it happened. It wasn’t until afterward, when we’d found the last of the traitors, that…that he admitted how he felt.” De Sardet straightened. “I know that he isn’t noble; I know what his position was here. But I also know that he is a better man than anyone within this palace.”

“It makes sense now,” the Prince d’Orsay said, speaking more to himself than de Sardet. “I didn’t see it, but…yes, it does make sense.” He steepled his fingers and said nothing.

De Sardet waited, but the silence stretched on.

“It is a shame,” he said again, finally.

“That I am happy? That I have found someone who truly cares for me? Or that I have ruined your plans?”

Her uncle looked up, his gaze severe: the sort that made a man’s words die in his throat. “That you are not truly your mother’s daughter. Even so, even now…the prospect would be tempting.”

“I need an heir. If you would abandon this marriage, you could yet have a place here.”

“As the wife of whatever young prince you want to anoint as your heir.”

“As my heir!” D’Orsay put both his hands flat on the table, leaning forward. “You have accomplished more in a year on Teer Fradee than many do in a lifetime. You have made our alliances with the Bridge and Theleme more secure, established peace, encouraged the natives to see us as a preferable partner to either of those nations, reinforced our friendship with the Nauts, thwarted a coup attempt by the Coin Guard…and that’s before considering that the natives appear to consider you as their savior, and that they seem determined to discover a cure for the malichor purely out of devotion to you.”

“That isn’t fair,” de Sardet said. “Without their help, I would never have…”

“Have _what_ , precisely? That’s the real question, isn’t it? Everyone who was present agrees that you saved Teer Fradee from a terrible fate, but no one will say precisely how. Oh, everyone says that Constantin learned he was dying of the malichor, went mad in search of a cure, and attempted this native ritual in one of their most sacred sites…and yet, everyone also agrees that he conveniently dropped dead during this ritual, while the rest of you were fighting for your lives. According to this story, if none of you had ever traveled to this Dorhadgenedu, it would have made no difference at all; my son would have died, either from the exertion of this ritual or the ravages of the malichor, and the island would have been saved without any death or injury.”

Augustin d’Orsay looked directly into her eyes. “Everyone agrees: you were the only person to enter the sanctuary where Constantin was performing this ritual. When they found you there, he was dead and you were alive, albeit terribly wounded. His body was returned to Serene by the man who is now your husband, examined only by a botanist of the Bridge Alliance who has also been one of your close companions, and then quickly cremated.”

“As for you, my dear niece…you entered that sanctuary to face my son alone. Only half a dozen people entered the sanctuary after the battle to search for you: your closest friends, who had already given you their unqualified love and loyalty, and the natives’ High King, whom you created.” At de Sardet’s look of surprise, he said, “I am not without sources on New Serene. They made me aware of the larger outlines of what transpired, and your friend the cardinal provided some of the details. Do not fault him too much; he is a canny politician, but he assumed I knew more than I did. Even the best of us is occasionally outwitted.”

“So…” d’Orsay spread his hands. “You enter this native sanctuary to face your cousin. You enter alone. When you leave, you are badly wounded, he is dead, the island is saved…and everyone is both adamant that you have saved them and that he dropped dead of his own accord. Again, I will say: their loyalty to you is truly admirable.”

De Sardet struggled to keep all emotion from her face. In her memories, she saw Constantin waving off the _nadaig_ , remembered how she had looked to him. _But why have you done this?_ She remembered the look in his eyes. _For you, for us. So that we may live free at last._

“And still you will not speak. Then let me say it plainly: you killed my son, did you not? Beneath these lies, the truth: Constantin was dying of the malichor. He saw in this native magic the potential to cure himself – but he was not prepared for this ritual, nor skilled enough to harness it. He never had a talent for magic; he lacked the self-control, the mental fortitude, the sheer will required.”

“This ritual, whatever it was, got out of hand. It caused devastating attacks on our allies in San Matheus and Hikmet, and would have wiped all three of our cities from the island had it continued.”

“You went into that sanctuary to persuade Constantin to stop, but for once in his life, he refused you. He insisted on carrying it to fruition. You fought; you won.” D’Orsay paused for a long moment to let that sink in, then said, very quietly, “I had a doctor examine the bones that were returned to Serene. There were markings on his ribcage here,” he said, gesturing to where de Sardet had slipped her sword in, “and here,” he said, touching his back, higher up. “Oddly enough, they were not unlike the markings that would be made by a sword, or perhaps a dagger.”

“I loved Constantin,” she said, very quietly.

“So you did. Yet, to save everyone and everything else you loved, you killed him.” D’Orsay watched her carefully. “You haven’t denied it.”

“He wanted to become a god,” she said, her throat dry. “He wanted to live forever. He offered me a place at his side, if I would join with him, complete the ritual. It would have destroyed me as it destroyed him. I couldn’t.” _Not with Kurt waiting for me, not with Vasco and Siora and Aphra all fighting for their lives, not with Petrus risking himself to hold those creatures off just beyond the entrance._ “He spoke of sweeping away the old world to build the new, but he would have destroyed everything he had once loved, the entirety of the island…”

“He was mad. Dying, and foolish, and utterly mad,” d’Orsay said. Again, his eyes narrowed. “As I have said, I am not without my sources, even on Teer Fradee. I know how he appeared when his body returned to New Serene. Twisted with malichor and magic alike, a creature more savage than any native.”

“ _He was still Constantin_.” Despite herself, de Sardet felt the tears coming to her eyes, and she could not hold him back. She thought of what Kurt had said. “If he hadn’t been, it would have been easier. Instead…”

“You did what had to be done. You drove a sword through his heart.”

“I held him while he died.” De Sardet used her napkin to wipe away the tears. “I thought he would kill me, but he didn’t. He could have. He had already set a _nadaig_ on me. I was burned and bruised, my armor was damaged beyond repair, I was exhausted. I could not have stopped him.”

“Do you regret your actions?”

De Sardet paused; she still could not read her uncle’s face, and had no idea of his true feelings regarding what she had done. Even now, she knew that some denial might have been possible: she hadn’t openly admitted to killing Constantin, although she hadn’t denied any of her uncle’s statements.

 _I’m tired of the lies. I’m tired of deceit._ Even if she lied, she could see it in his face: he knew the truth.

“No,” she said finally. “I wish it could have been otherwise, I wish that it had never come to that…but I know what would have happened if I had joined with him. Thousands would have died, I would have lost myself, and it would never have restored Constantin to the man he was.” She met her uncle’s eyes, imploring him to understand. “I had to do it.”

“I know how much you loved him,” said d’Orsay. “Even now, while you blame yourself for the death of a dying madman.”

“He wasn’t dying. The ritual cured the malichor—”

“At the expense of his sanity, apparently, as well as the lives of everyone else on Teer Fradee. I would hardly call that a cure.” D’Orsay did not let her respond. “I am well aware of what it must have cost you.”

“I must admit, I am impressed. You loved him, and yet, for the good of your kingdom and your people, you killed him – and the people you saved love you so much for it that they will go to great lengths to protect you.” He ran a finger around the edge of his wine-glass. “I am assuming that you assumed that you would no longer be safe in Serene, if the truth were known? Or was it simply that you had no desire to gain a reputation as the woman who killed her own cousin?”

“He was your son.”

“My son, who had never done anything in his life of note, who had been content to waste his days drinking and carousing. My son, who accomplished nothing of note in his term as governor, content to leave the real achievements to you, and who had contracted the malichor in any case. Constantin was no great loss.”

“ _He was your son!_ ” De Sardet’s anger overwhelmed all sense of caution or control. “Since I returned, you’ve never spoken of Constantin, except to try to use his death as an excuse to take concessions from the Bridge. You’ve never acted as if you grieved for him.” De Sardet’s voice choked with emotion. “When Constantin died, it was as if I had lost a part of myself. My closest friend, for so many years my only friend, as close as a brother…and I…” She broke off, unable to finish.

“He isn’t the first son I’ve lost, if you’ll recall.” The Prince d’Orsay’s voice had been level as ever until then, his expression entirely composed – but as he spoke of his first son, his voice grew rough. “You never knew Sebastien, of course. Or my first wife, Helena.”

“You act as if I never knew what it was to love. As if I had a heart of stone and ice in my veins. But I loved a woman, once. I loved the child we made together, and the life we had.”

“We were wed when I was eighteen and she was sixteen. It was arranged, of course. She was terrified; even then, I had a reputation for intimidation. I have been feared, yes; respected, certainly. But never loved. Not before Helena, and not since, save perhaps for my dear sister. But even Jeanne was always wary of me in a way that Helena never was. She trusted me completely, loved me completely, as no one else ever has.”

“Our son was beautiful. From the moment I held him in my arms, I knew he was destined for greatness. I let myself grow soft. I paid too much attention to my family, and not enough to the intrigues that were swirling around me.”

“People noticed. They always notice. Some thought that they would take advantage of my weakness to usurp my place. If only they had attacked me directly! Instead, the cowards planted a bomb beneath the base of my carriage. Only I was not there, that fateful day. Business had called me away, and Sebastien joined my wife in my place.”

“When I heard what had happened, I rushed to the street. What was left of them to bury…” To her surprise, de Sardet saw tears in her uncle’s eyes, and heard the beginnings of a sob rising in his throat. “Even now, I can see it so clearly.”

“I made the conspirators pay. I dismantled their houses; I took them before they could commit suicide, and made them die screaming, broken on the wheel, bound to a wagon and dragged through the streets, hanged, drawn and quartered, their entrails pulled out before their still-seeing eyes. I know what they said of me: that any softness I had, any feeling, died with them. They are right: the best of me died that day, and lies buried with her in that tomb.”

Augustin d’Orsay’s lip and chin quavered; he pressed his fist to his mouth, then closed his eyes, fighting for composure. Only when he had won the battle did he continue. “I spent my grief on them. Heloise was a means to an end, a way to secure my power; she knew I would never feel for her half of what I had felt for Helena, and she did not regret it. She never was the sentimental sort.”

“Constantin loved you,” she said. “He wanted your approval so badly—”

“Then he should have earned it.”

“He could never be Sebastien. You wanted him to take his place, but he could never live up to a ghost.” De Sardet shook her head. “He had more potential than you ever gave him credit for! He was doing a wonderful job as governor; he attended to his duties so diligently—”

“How long would that have lasted, I wonder? I’m sure he found his day-to-day duties an utter bore. Do you think in a year, he would still have worked with such diligence?”

“He had changed,” de Sardet protested. “Being away from Serene was good for him. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was to be independent. He was finally free.”

“Are you speaking of him, or of yourself?” Her uncle didn’t wait for an answer. “Despite what you may think, I knew more of my son than you might imagine. Constantin was never going to be a suitable heir. Even Heloise knew that; she had great hopes that he might marry and produce a child who could be shaped into a better one.”

“Now, I wonder if that duty might not fall to you. Abandon this marriage, allow me to arrange for you some political match, and you can remain here, in Serene. The child, you might even keep, if we work quickly enough, and you are free to keep your bodyguard as your lover, so long as you are discreet.”

“Do as I say, and you could become my heir. You would have to marry one of the ancient nobility, a house with the connections here that you lack, but you seem to be able to build alliances quickly enough. With your talent—”

“No,” de Sardet said. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? I do not want to stay here. I will not marry anyone else. I want only to return to New Serene with Kurt at my side, and live my life there, whether in service to the Congregation or as a private citizen.”

“And this is your final decision. Your mind is made up.”

“Absolutely.”

“What a shame,” d’Orsay said, and de Sardet could hear the echo of her cousin’s voice, his dying whisper. “You could have been so much more. Princess Alexandra de Sardet, Her Serene Highness of the Congregation of Merchants. You can’t say that doesn’t tempt you? You, who seem so determined to forge a peace, to cure the malichor, to shape the world according to your own desires?”

“Constantin offered me the world. Immortality and godhood, though it was all a hollow promise…but he genuinely believed in his offer. He thought he was building a better world.” De Sardet refused to back down. “It held no temptation for me then, and it holds no temptation now. Less, for I have no desire to remain in Serene.”

“Constantin looked at this world, at all of the courts and their politics, and saw only an endless web of lies and deceit, of corruption and venality, of plots tangled within plots. He wanted to end it forever; I wish only to leave it behind.”

“I look at this court, and I see only a prison. Constantin knew the truth of that long before I did. I never knew how much more I could be until I left Serene.” She rested a hand against her abdomen. “I could never have imagined falling in love with Kurt, marrying for love…our children will never have to be warned against intrigues, worried that every potential friend is only seeking to use them. They will never have to fear the malichor.”

She straightened. “Your offer holds no temptations for me, uncle. I want to build a better world, yes, for my child, and any children who may follow after. I was raised in Serene, yes, and I would not wish ill on this city for anything in the world; I would like to see it restored to all its glory, the way my mother told me it was in her childhood, a shining city upon a hill, greatest in all the world. Someday, I might even want to bring my family to visit, to show them the place where I grew up. But my home is on Teer Fradee, and that is where I hope to make a difference.”

Augustin d’Orsay was silent for a long moment; his only reaction to her impassioned speech was to lean back in his chair, steepling his fingers once more. This time, de Sardet did not break the silence; she sat across from him while he stared back, silently contemplating.

“You will return, then,” he said finally, very quietly. “With your husband. Whom you love.”

“More than anything. I cannot imagine a life without him. I want to have a family with him. I want to—”

“I was not asking you to justify your devotion,” d’Orsay said. “I am well aware of how much you love him.” He paused. “You and I are more alike than you would wish to admit. You are capable of killing when you must, but you do not delight in it; you avoid unnecessary bloodshed whenever possible, prefer to submit the guilty to the rule of law, and grant mercy whenever you can, to any you deem worthy. You were never vindictive, never bloodthirsty, never unnecessarily cruel.” His words took on an implied rebuke, and de Sardet knew he was speaking of Constantin, who had occasionally been cruel, and always vengeful towards those he perceived as having wronged him. “The only time you take revenge is when someone has harmed those you love most.”

“I am the same. When Helena and Sebastien were murdered, you know what I did to the killers. My vengeance is spoken of only in whispers, but I have told it to you in full, and I will tell you this: I regret none of those deeds. I wish only that I could have inflicted even greater suffering on those who took my wife and son from me.”

“When you discovered that Constantin had been poisoned, you had his murderer beheaded. I know the weeks you spent gathering evidence, convincing his assistants to testify, persuading Governor Burhan to bring the matter to trial. I know that you could not be present at the trial itself, but that you insisted on being present at his execution. You saw him die in a single clean stroke, and were satisfied.”

“For my son, you had a man beheaded, and I know you loved him dearly. For your beloved guard, you had a man burned alive.” De Sardet startled, but d’Orsay held up a hand. “Early in his career, Major Hermann was established with the Blue-Silver Regiment, here in Serene. He was only Lieutenant Hermann then, but I was well aware of his…more unpleasant proclivities, shall we say, and what he might have done to provoke such vengeance.”

 _He was behind this,_ she remembered Kurt saying. _If I had obeyed those orders, I would have lost everything: my honor, my self-respect, you…and he would have been behind it. I would have been doing it for him._ And then, later: _What Hermann did to us was much the same as what happened to Reiner and the others. Except that sometimes, Hermann would visit us at night…_

“You knew?” de Sardet demanded. “You knew, and did nothing?”

“He was an able officer, and gave no reason then to doubt his loyalty. It is true, what he did was distasteful, but it is sometimes useful to retain certain distasteful information in case you require leverage. Had he ever turned his attention outside his recruits, I would have taken action, but his usefulness outweighed his crimes.”

De Sardet had nearly pitied her uncle when he had spoken of his first wife and son. _I even believed he might have a heart._ But she could not hear his cold words without thinking of Kurt: how he had cried when he had told her all the details, how frightened he had been that she might somehow think less of him, or even blame him for what had happened. _It has been more than twenty years, and he still bears the scars._

“You could have stopped him,” she said, outraged. “You could have kept him from ever hurting Kurt – from hurting all those boys.” _How many did he abuse, over all those years?_ Hermann’s power and connections had kept them silent, but de Sardet had to believe that the major had left a trail of destruction in his wake; she knew from Kurt that nearly all the other boys he’d abused in that ghost camp were dead, having suffered terribly because of what Hermann had done to them.

“Perhaps I should have,” d’Orsay replied mildly. “But it seems you have remedied my error, if error it was.”

“ _If_?”

“I must admit, I am surprised you went so far. I have read reports of the execution; one described it as a slow roasting more than a proper burning. Green wood, a rainy day, denied the mercy of gunpowder…he must have suffered terribly.”

“He deserved it,” de Sardet said angrily. “He deserved all of that and more. I despise the Ordo Luminis. I hope that Theleme does disband their order entirely. I would gladly see Father Aloysius consigned to those same flames—”

“But you used him as an instrument of your vengeance nonetheless. As a tool,” d’Orsay said, and she couldn’t help but think of all the times she’d thought of her uncle using her. “I do not blame you; it was well-done.” He sighed. “I wish that you would reconsider my offer. But one cannot rule a state upon wishes.”

“You will not agree to be my heir, and unite the wealth of House d’Orsay with House de Sardet, ruling the Congregation once I am gone. Instead, you wish to return to New Serene, with your loving husband at your side.”

De Sardet nodded.

“If I appoint you as governor, will you accept?”

De Sardet thought of what she had told Lady de Morange when she had offered it. _I never sought the position. I never wanted it._ She thought of what Constantin had told her of the long, boring days, the endless procession of delegations offering gifts and empty words, the sheer tedium.

But she also thought of the good she could do, and of the harm that someone else could inflict. _If I decline, who will he send? He’ll hardly allow Lady de Morange to remain in the post._ Teer Fradee represented the potential for power: a growing city months away from the eyes of the rest of the Congregation, with bustling trade and prosperity that would only continue to grow beneath the watchful eye of a careful governor. _He could send someone who only seeks to exploit the natives or establish their own power base. He could send someone who doesn’t understand the natives’ culture at all, who would turn a blind eye to merchants enslaving or exploiting the population._

Most likely of all, she thought, he would send an endless stream of governors: men and women granted one- or two-year terms, allowed only to rule for a short period of time for fear that they would build an empire of their own. Augustin d’Orsay wanted the Congregation of Merchants to benefit from the settlement on Teer Fradee, that was true, but she also knew that he wanted House d’Orsay to benefit most of all.

 _I have to accept,_ she thought. She thought of Constantin, filled with hopes and plans, and of the earliest papers she’d discovered while searching his study, page after page of wild dreams for making New Serene into the jewel of Teer Fradee and the envy of the world. _For Constantin’s sake, as well as Teer Fradee’s. To show people what the city might have become under his rule, had he never had the malichor._

But she was done being used blindly, a tool to be wielded in another’s hand. “Why is Teer Fradee so important to you?” she asked. “How could you have made plans all those years ago? Did you truly charter an expedition to the island with the sole purpose of abducting my mother? What are your plans now?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I require answers before I can give you mine.”

Augustin d’Orsay regarded her appraisingly. “You demand answers,” he repeated. “Even as the ruler of the Congregation, I have often found that getting answers is never so easy as you would like. Certainly not answers that are real, truthful, and useful, even when you know enough to ask the right questions. But I will give you the truth, as I have since you returned.”

“You know that we had a settlement on the island several generations ago, and that the settlement failed.”

“Yes.”

“You also know that, since then, the malichor has ravaged the continent, and that Serene has suffered most acutely. Despite my best efforts, we are a fading city, attempting to draw the tattered remnants of our dignity around ourselves to cloak the loss of prosperity. I have forged alliances with the Bridge and Theleme, and played them off one another for decades; if I had not, someone would have noticed our weakness, and we would certainly have been invaded and occupied, if not annexed outright. We are weak and fading, but still an attractive target.”

“I saw our decline coming nearly thirty years ago. I found in the archives of Serene the records of our failed settlement, and of the expeditions that continued even afterwards. I knew that Teer Fradee would be our salvation, a way to restore our former glories, if only I could convince my fellow princes that we ought to establish a new settlement. At that time, we had not mounted an expedition to the island in nearly a decade, and the previous Prince of the Congregation had closed his eyes to the opportunity it represented, turning back to the continent in the hopes that forging alliances with the Bridge Alliance and Theleme would restore us to prominence.”

“I knew then that my solution was far superior. We can play the Bridge Alliance off of Theleme, of course, but the political situation here is ever-changing; one day, the Bridge may make peace with Theleme, and then we will find ourselves superfluous to both. Moreover, if we ever truly needed aid, they would demand a price too high for us to pay: for Theleme, it would be our conversion and admittance of inquisitors in the streets, and an acknowledgment of the supremacy of Her Supreme Holiness in all doctrinal matters; for the Bridge, it would be our admission to their alliance. In either case, the ultimate price would be nothing less than our sovereignty, our existence as an independent nation.”

“I saw then that our future lay with Teer Fradee. The archives spoke of mineral wealth, of lumber, of rivers teeming with fish and forests full of birds, and of natives who produced beautiful crafts that would certainly have a market on Gacane. It was the perfect way to increase the Congregation’s influence and power; its natural resources, the trade that would result, the goods that might be exported to its natives and any settlers, all of that could restore us to greatness, not only save the Congregation but make it richer and more powerful than before – but I also knew that my fellow princes would not agree, and that I would need to persuade them that we would not be repeating the mistakes of our forebears.”

“It was shortly after my election as prince, and I did not yet have sufficient power or authority to unilaterally give such a command; I knew that I would need to persuade the others, but I also knew that, given the previous disaster, I would have to have compelling arguments as to why we would succeed where our ancestors had failed. The disastrous retreat, the loss of so many lives and men and coin…entire families had been ruined by the previous fiasco that was our first attempt at permanent settlement.”

“I knew then that it would take time before I would be able to establish such a settlement…years, perhaps even decades, before my plans could be fully realized. I also knew that I would need to find a way to ensure that our settlement did not fail as it had before…a way to prevent the same disaster from befalling us. I confided in my closest friend and ally, the Prince de Sardet, and revealed to him my findings. He quickly came to share my belief that Teer Fradee would prove the key to restoring the Congregation to its former greatness, and promised me that he would do everything he could to assist me.”

“Alexandre chartered a Naut ship and crew and made plans to resume expeditions to the island, so that we could perhaps find a suitable place to settle. He made several expeditions with that in mind, and chartered several more when he could not travel personally. He would have gone every time, but given the length of the crossing, he could not always do as he wished. When he had an heir, he said, he would be glad to do so, but until then…” D’Orsay spread his hands. “We had planned that he would be the first governor of Teer Fradee. We spoke of building a new Serene, a city near the coast, a port that would be a hub of trade and commerce. He spoke of rebuilding House de Sardet upon those shores, restoring a fading house to greatness, creating a dynasty that would endure for centuries, while I sought to do the same for House d’Orsay and the Congregation itself on these shores.” 

“While I worked on our plans, Alexandre began to speak to the other princes of Teer Fradee, of the riches that could be found there and of the prosperity it would bring if we could only harness those riches for ourselves; he brought back examples of the natives’ crafts, samples of the richest soils, rubies that could practically be plucked from the earth. In the meantime, I began to lay the groundwork so that our plans might someday come to fruition, speaking with our Naut allies about what might be needed if we were to establish a new settlement.”

“As we worked, I realized that our first settlement had failed because we had gone too far in angering the natives; the archives might speak of the island itself turning against us, or of monsters that rose from the earth to destroy our cities, but ultimately, it was the natives who drove us from their shores. Monsters can be killed; men are harder to control. Kill a monster, and you are a hero; kill a man, and you become a monster to all those who loved him.”

“I swore then that we would not repeat our ancestors’ mistakes, and I knew then that if we were to avoid them, we would need a way to convince the natives to trust us. As I said, the Congregation had continued its expeditions to the island, and previous expeditions had discovered that certain natives had markings that were only seen on the peoples of Teer Fradee.” Augustin d’Orsay raised his hand to his face, mirroring de Sardet’s mark. “Alexandre said that those natives who possessed the mark were respected above all others, that they had a special term for them.”

“ _On ol menawi_ ,” said de Sardet.

“Yes,” d’Orsay agreed. “ _On ol menawi_. Many had unusual growths protruding from their heads…like the branches of a tree, Alexandre said. Yet others with the mark lacked those growths. When he asked, he learned that those who had undergone a particular native religious ritual possessed both the facial markings and the growths, but that those with only the facial markings were often the children of those who had undergone the ritual.” He paused. “I knew then that such a child would be invaluable to our efforts.”

“I spoke with the Prince de Sardet; he agreed. He chartered a Naut ship and crew, and made another expedition to Teer Fradee…his last, as it turned out, though neither of us could have known it when he departed. For that fateful expedition, I sent him with orders to capture a pregnant native who possessed the mark of her people, and the branches that marked her as one who had undergone the bonding herself. I had instructed him that, if he could not find a suitable native who was already pregnant, he might produce the child himself, but he balked at that." 

_He had no qualms about kidnapping a pregnant woman, but drew the line at rape?_ Not for the first time, Alexandra de Sardet wondered about her putative father and namesake. _Mother loved him dearly, and she always said he was a good man, and Sir de Courcillon considered him a dear friend...but he was my uncle's closest friend and confidante._

Her uncle continued, unaware of her thoughts. “It was not his only mission, of course; he was to continue scouting potential sites for a settlement, preferably one with a good natural harbor that was not already in use by the natives, at a distance suitably far away from any native villages…though close enough that links of trade might be maintained, if the natives proved to be willing trading partners. I also sought to avoid any previous sites used by the Congregation, in the hopes that the natives might not realize that we were the descendants of the people they had cast out over a century ago.”

“But his primary mission was to capture my mother,” said de Sardet. “The point of the expedition was not to choose your site for settlement or to map the island’s coast, but to find and take a pregnant woman from her people.”

“Yes.” Augustin d’Orsay was uncompromising, unwilling to sheathe the cold truth in more comforting lies, or even to wrap it in words that might have made it seemed less harsh. “I told him that we needed a child of Teer Fradee, one who bore that islander’s mark, and he swore to return with one. The purpose of his expedition was to obtain a child to serve our purposes, nothing more and nothing less.”

“It was a difficult order, to be sure, but Alexandre was always a man of great resourcefulness. In one of his last letters home, he sent word that he had captured your mother. He continued on his work of mapping the coast, but while ashore, he and his men were attacked by a party of natives who apparently hoped to recover your mother. They were repulsed, and most were killed; however, the Prince de Sardet was wounded by one, a native he said fought most fiercely. It soon became apparent that the native who had attacked him had been armed with a poisoned blade, and the wound festered.”

“He had intended to continue his earlier work of mapping the coast and examining other potential sites for settlement, but once he was wounded and your mother captured, he ordered the expedition to return home far earlier than intended. He died during the journey home, shortly before you were born.”

De Sardet remembered what Slan had said of her father’s death. _Was he in that party? Did my father – my true father – die trying to rescue my mother? Did he kill the Prince de Sardet?_ Those were questions to which her uncle would have no answer. _There may be no one left alive who knows._

She did not hesitate to ask another question. “Neither of you had any qualms about taking a pregnant woman from her home? You had no reservations about taking her newborn child from her arms and casting her into a prison cell, alone and forgotten, until she perished?”

“No,” said d’Orsay. “The fate of the Congregation was at stake. We needed this settlement to succeed. You have no idea how many resources we poured into this, how much wealth – not merely the fortunes of House d’Orsay and House de Sardet, but of the Congregation itself. If New Serene had failed, it would have been disastrous. I would have done anything to ensure the settlement’s success. The life of a single savage was nothing.”

“And my…father,” she said. “He felt the same.”

“He did. Alexandre shared my dreams for the Congregation. He was more than an ally; he was my closest friend, a trusted friend. You know how rare those are here. He would have done anything to ensure the Congregation’s survival and the success of our project on Teer Fradee.” D’Orsay sighed. “Of course, neither of us considered the timing of such an endeavor, or how badly it would harm our relations with the Nauts. It takes little more than three months to sail to Teer Fradee, but close to four to return; any woman who was visibly with child would be unlikely to make it to Serene without giving birth.” His gaze went to her abdomen. “As you well know.”

Her fears stirred, but de Sardet refused to show them; she returned his stare without blinking, resisting the urge to fold her arms over her abdomen.

“Had we known what would happen, Alexandre might have arranged to build some sort of temporary encampment, or perhaps to stay close to shore until she went into labor; he could have had her rowed ashore for the duration of the birth. Had he not been injured, he might even have realized it himself; he spent far more time amongst the Nauts than I ever did, and understood them. But events transpired as they did, and there is no point in wishing otherwise now…especially as they did not end as badly as they might have, all things considering.”

“In the end, the timing was fortuitous: Jeanne had retired to the countryside to give birth, as was her custom, and that allowed me to keep the news of her stillbirth a secret. You were placed in her arms within a month of her son’s death, and a month after that, no one remained who could contradict the story.” 

“You had them killed,” de Sardet said. “The midwife, the servants who’d attended her—”

“Only those who’d attended the birth, or who were in a position to know that the child had not survived,” d’Orsay replied. “Jeanne believed that they had died of plague. She did have a talent for believing in more comforting truths than reality.”

De Sardet thought of the way her mother had always insisted that she was the image of her father, and of the effigy of Alexandre de Sardet that looked nothing like her. “She did,” she murmured. 

“You always were her daughter. When I first brought you to her, she was so crushed by the loss of her child and her husband that her doctors had told me they thought she would die of grief. I will never forget the look on her face when I brought you to her and asked her if she would raise you as her own.” D’Orsay’s eyes were distant. “From the moment she took you in her arms, you were hers.”

_Named for the man who likely murdered my father, while my true mother was thrown into a cell to rot. I became hers, but only because I was stolen from my own parents, and once again from the Nauts._

“As I told you, I made my plans: dozens of them, but always with the thought that you would be useful, a key to establishing links of trust. When our alliance with the Nauts grew strained and they chose to sell the location of the island to both Theleme and the Bridge, I realized that you would be more essential than ever: after the Prince de Sardet’s death and the difficulties with the Nauts, I found my own position within the Congregation momentarily weakened, and I knew that we would be unable to establish our own settlement as quickly as I would have preferred. An ambassador who would be instantly trusted by the natives would be an invaluable asset when the Bridge and Theleme had such an advantage over us.”

“As it turned out, they were fools: the Bridge chose to abduct and experiment on the natives, ruining any chance of trust or of trade, while Theleme sought only to bring them to the Light, and brought the Ordo Luminis and their burnings with them. When you arrived, extending your hand in friendship, looking every inch the native, you fulfilled every hope I ever had of you.”

“That is what I want from you now, Alexandra: for you to return to Teer Fradee as governor of New Serene. Maintain our alliances with Theleme and the Bridge, forge a new one with the natives, and establish links of commerce and trade. Build New Serene into the most prosperous city on the island, continue your friendship with the natives, and rule well and wisely.”

“I will not let you exploit them,” she said.

“I have no need of exploitation. Fair and honest trade will restore the Congregation to what it once was. Exploiting the natives would only ruin our reputation with them, driving them into the arms of Theleme or the Bridge – or driving us off the island altogether. We cannot afford to lose this settlement or what it represents. In all honesty, those who would exploit the natives seek to do so to increase their own power. I would not have any other noble house establishing itself on the island. If not you, then who shall I appoint as governor?”

“Lady de Morange would gladly accept.”

“House de Morange is too dangerous. Laurine de Morange may love Teer Fradee, but her brother would use its wealth as a stepping-stone to become my successor. He would turn its gems and ores and spices into bribes at the next election, and then he would ruin the Congregation with his short-sightedness. I can accept her as a temporary governor in your absence, but she must not be allowed to keep the position.”

“Sir de Courcillon—”

“De Courcillon is a minor family, clinging to nobility like the de Cortones or de Jolicoeurs; they do not number among the princes of the Congregation, though they have more standing than a family like the Fontaines or the Vaillancourts. It is a delicate balance: Henri de Courcillon and Georges Vaillancourt are no threat to me, but I could hardly appoint one of them governor. The position of governor must be filled by a prince of the Congregation, but who? I would never let House de Morange, House d’Arcy, or any of the rest become the true power on Teer Fradee.”

“That’s why you want me there,” said de Sardet. “You know I will never pose any challenge to your authority.”

“I would have preferred otherwise, as you well know,” d’Orsay replied. “But if you are determined on this course, then yes. House de Sardet is both wealthy and powerful, that much is true, but your marriage to your own bodyguard will cause the other princes to disdain you.”

“As would my true heritage,” said de Sardet.

D’Orsay waved a hand. “Had you accepted me, there would be ways around that. Perhaps Alexandre de Sardet returned from Teer Fradee with a native child – _his_ child, whom he legitimized before his death. Jeanne raised you for the love she bore him, knowing it was his last wish. Wed to a nobleman of the Congregation, your heritage might have been something of a minor scandal, but nothing you could not have braved. But this choice—” He waved a hand toward her abdomen. “Taking a common-born member of the Coin Guard as your lover? That would be understood, overlooked, a matter of gossip but not disgrace, at least once you had produced the requisite heirs for your house and your husband's. Taking that same Coin Guard as your husband, slighting a dozen lords who would have been willing to wed you? That is an insult they cannot forgive.”

“I don’t care,” said de Sardet. “I don’t want a life here. I don’t want to be your successor.”

“And so you will be governor of Teer Fradee,” said d’Orsay. “Will you not?”

“I will,” said de Sardet. “It seems I must.”

“You are truly the best candidate. I expect to keep you in that position until my death, and will advise that my heir do the same.”

“Who will be your heir?”

“I never have only one plan,” d’Orsay replied. “I have a natural son; his mother was a minor noblewoman of no account, of an ancient but impoverished family. She was the last of the line, and died in childbed.”

“Is that true?” de Sardet couldn’t help asking.

“It certainly is. The boy is ten; he was conceived about the time I realized that Constantin was proving a disappointment, and that Heloise would bear no more heirs. I’ve kept him well-hidden; Heloise would have killed him had she learned of his existence. He’s been given a princely education, though kept ignorant of his true heritage. I will begin to take a greater interest in him; if he seems promising, then in five years, I will bring him to the palace. Eventually, I may produce a decree legitimizing him.”

“In the meantime, I will remarry. Perhaps a woman from the faction favoring Theleme, to frighten the Bridge into granting the last of those concessions. Isabelle de Renaud, perhaps; she has just turned twenty-seven, indubitably old for a first marriage, but there would be fewer rumors than if I chose to wed a girl of fifteen or sixteen. At my age, people begin to gossip of lechery, and I find such talk distasteful. It would also satisfy the de Renauds, as they are so bitterly disappointed over having lost the prospect of marrying her to Constantin, as they will soon lose hope of marrying you to Henri.”

“If Isabelle produces a son relatively quickly, then there will be no need of bringing Etienne to court, at least immediately; or, at least, there will be no need of declaring him to be my heir. If my health continues to be good, I would prefer to have a successor whose legitimacy is not in question, and who has not earned the enmity of the de Renauds by his very existence. If my health begins to fail, then Etienne becomes the preferred heir by virtue of his age; I will not leave House d’Orsay in the hands of Isabelle de Renaud and her family.”

“It is likely that the next leader of the Congregation will not be either Etienne or this child,” de Sardet pointed out. “Do you truly think the princes will elect a child? Or a boy they know to be illegitimate?”

“Leave that to me,” d’Orsay replied. “But even if my heir fails to keep my position, I fully intend to leave House d’Orsay as one of the most powerful in the Congregation. We will be well-placed to regain the position within a generation, and I will do my best to ensure that neither my house nor the Congregation is left unprepared for the future.”

“I would advise you to do the same, on your island. Rule well, and leave New Serene in such a state that it will thrive even if your successor is incompetent or unworthy.”

D’Orsay rose from the dinner table, and de Sardet did the same. “We have a deal, then,” he said. “You will become Governor de Sardet, serving at my pleasure, for the remainder of my lifetime. You will not speak a word to anyone of your true heritage, save those who are already aware.”

“And my children,” de Sardet said. “I will not hide the truth from them.”

“Very well.”

“You will return to Teer Fradee as soon as I can arrange it.”

“I have a ship that can leave tomorrow.”

“Or tonight, had my response been less favorable? A week will change nothing; even a fortnight, should it prove necessary. Give me that much time to arrange your departure, in a manner that will prove more favorable to us both. It will give Commodore Vasco time to load his ships with cargo, so that he may leave without incurring the displeasure of his superiors, and it will give you time to recall your native friend to your side, and any who may wish to go with her.”

“The _doneigada_ ,” de Sardet began.

“Whatever natives wish to stay will be welcome to do so. I do not believe they can cure the malichor, but nor do I believe there is any harm in trying. They may stay, although of course they will not be welcome at Court. If there are rumors after your departure, I may let slip that part of the reason I permitted your marriage to your Coin Guard was because you were the legitimized child of Alexandre de Sardet and some native woman he impregnated on his final expedition. Jeanne’s miscarriages will be remembered, as will Alexandre’s desire for an heir. Your marriage to your former master-at-arms will be more readily accepted if they can tell themselves that you were a less-than-desirable bride in any case.”

“I don’t care,” said de Sardet. “Tell them what you will.” 

“Well, then, Governor de Sardet, it seems we have a deal. You will serve for the remainder of my lifetime, having free rein upon the island; I will even permit you to choose your own staff. I would prefer that you keep the post after I am dead, but that may not be up to either of us. In exchange, you will retain your title and wealth, I will publicly acknowledge your marriage, and you will return to Teer Fradee before you give birth. I will not recall you to Serene again.” He extended a hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” de Sardet said, clasping his hand and shaking it firmly.

“Then call your Coin Guard in here. I’m well aware he’s waiting outside; he must be worried.”

But before she could retrieve Kurt, one of the guards appeared. “Your Serene Highness, Your Highness,” he said, saluting. “Cardinal Petrus is outside. He wished to know if he might have a word.”

D’Orsay’s gaze slid to de Sardet. “Tell him I will see him in just a moment. First, send in Major Kurt, if you please. I would like to have a word with him.”

“Yes, Your Serene Highness.”

A moment later, Kurt appeared, looking nervous. “Your Serene Highness,” he said.

“Major,” d’Orsay replied. “Or should I say ‘Your Highness?’ You are, as I understand it, the Prince de Sardet.”

“Kurt,” de Sardet said, taking him by the arm. “It’s all right. Everything is settled.”

“You won’t have any need to fight your way out of the palace, if that’s what concerned you.” D’Orsay gave him an appraising glance. “When I first hired you, I took you for a common mercenary. You were a Coin Guard, you said, and coin was what you wanted from me.”

“What amount of coin would persuade you to give up my niece, I wonder? Would a title be sufficient? Land?”

“None of it,” Kurt said. “I don’t want your money.”

“Because my niece has plenty of it? What if I told you that I’d told her the price of her marriage would be everything she had? Her title as the Princess de Sardet, her wealth, her nobility? What if I told you that, as soon as you departed for New Serene, I would stand up before the Congregation and tell them the truth of her origins, declaring House de Sardet extinct and disowning Alexandra as my niece? Alexandra, of no surname or country, a savage from Teer Fradee, destitute and disinherited. Would my coin still seem so unappealing then?”

“Yes,” Kurt said. He looked to de Sardet. “Noble or Naut or native, I don’t care,” he said, very softly, then looked back to d’Orsay. “I love her. I don’t care about your titles or your lands – or your coin, for that matter. I don’t want any of it.” 

“That’s odd. When I hired you, you said it was the only thing you wanted from me.” D’Orsay stroked his chin. “I always did find it curious that despite your insistence on my coin buying your loyalty, that you declined every attempt at bribery ever made. Jean de Grandeville offered you five hundred florins to let Constantin suffer an ‘accident’ in training; Simon de Bouchard offered you twice that to leave him and my niece unprotected for a mere half-hour. De Grandeville only wanted him maimed, something you could have passed off as his own carelessness; de Bouchard would have done worse, though I am aware the story he told you was far more innocuous than his true plans ever were. In any case, you refused them both out of hand, and reported them to me immediately.”

“There are things that meant more to me than coin. Courage. Honor. Loyalty.” Kurt looked to de Sardet. “They trusted me to protect them. I would never have violated that trust by placing them in danger, or lost my honor by deserting them. I have never reneged on a contract, and I never will; from the moment I accepted that contract and swore my oath to protect them, I would have died for them.” His voice softened. "I still would, contract or no." 

“‘Fight with honor,’ you always taught them. An odd axiom for the Coin Guard, I always thought; surely, a mercenary would fight in whatever way would allow him to win.”

“It is our motto. Honor isn’t just for blue-blooded nobles,” Kurt shot back, his gaze snapping back to the Prince d'Orsay. “The Coin Guard is a mercenary company, yes, but it has to be more than a group of men paid with coin for fighting someone else’s battles; otherwise, there’s nothing to separate us from brigands.”

“Yet you seem to have a strange concept of honor, seeing as you’ve used your position as my niece’s master-at-arms to slip into her bed. How many years have you been planning this? Ten? Fifteen?”

“I would never,” Kurt snarled, entirely forgetting any semblance of respect. “She must have told you that I would never have violated that trust. To think that I would do anything – that I could even look at her that way when she was a child, and a child entrusted to my care—” He was so angry he was nearly incoherent. “Until we arrived on Teer Fradee, I never—”

“Had the chance? But you certainly took it once you were alone together. Just as you took her honor.”

“I didn’t. I could never.”

“You know, some men would take that as an insult. After all, you could not take what she does not have.” Kurt looked absolutely murderous, and d’Orsay tilted his head; a small smile played upon his lips.

“Kurt, he’s trying to provoke you,” de Sardet said, but she wasn’t entirely sure he heard.

“Alexandra is the most honorable person I’ve ever known – the best person I’ve ever known. She deserved better than the lies you fed her, the deceit, all of it. She deserves better than me, for that matter.”

“Kurt—”

“I don’t want your coin. I won’t stand here and listen to you insult her. She is my love, my wife, the mother of my child, and there is nothing that you could say that would convince me to abandon her.”

“You loved her enough to defy the Coin Guard,” said d’Orsay. “You believe in the Coin Guard, have devoted your life to it, and yet you defied orders and betrayed your own company to warn her.”

“Betrayed a lot of traitors,” Kurt rejoined.

“Please. Torsten conspired against those he claimed to served and broke the Guard’s contracts, but they were orders issued by your commanding officer – orders you would never have obeyed in any case, even if they had been entirely legitimate. You would have defied those orders regardless of the circumstances.”

“I couldn’t do otherwise. I would have lost everything that ever mattered to me.”

“Her, you mean." 

"Yes - but that's not all. My honor, my integrity, my very identity: I could not have obeyed Torsten and remained myself." Kurt's voice wavered, just a little, and de Sardet knew he was remembering the vision that _en on mil frichtimen_ had showed him. "I could not have obeyed those orders and lived with myself." 

"Because you loved her." D'Orsay didn't wait for a response. "You certainly didn’t do it for Constantin’s sake. I know you could hardly stand him.”

“I liked him well enough. More than you think, anyway.”

“But far less than her. You never had such an affectionate nickname for him. What was it you called her? Blue Blood?” D’Orsay waved a hand before Kurt could correct him. “I don’t blame you; Constantin was always difficult to love.” Kurt began to protest, and de Sardet herself might have said something, but d'Orsay wouldn't let either of them speak. “Have you considered the consequences of this marriage? It will most certainly end your chances of advancement within the Coin Guard, if not your career.”

“Other men within the guard have families in New Serene, or on the continent,” de Sardet said.

“Commoners wed to commoners,” d’Orsay scoffed. To Kurt, he added, “The Coin Guard will never promote you beyond your current position if you’re wed to a princess of the Congregation, holding a title of nobility yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter.” It took Kurt a moment before he realized what the prince had said. “You aren’t stripping her of her title, then, or disowning her and dissolving the House de Sardet, or any of it.”

“Certainly not. The governor of New Serene must be of a noble family.” 

“Governor—”

“The price of going home,” de Sardet murmured, “and of keeping the peace.”

“If it’s what you want,” Kurt told her. “But only if you want it.”

“She will be governor, and you will remain as a major of the Blue-Silver Regiment,” said d’Orsay. “You will end your career as a major, an advisor to the regional commander who may not continue to hold that post after that commander’s promotion, death, or retirement. Wed to the governor of New Serene, bound to the Congregation of Merchants, the Red Sun and Green-Azure regiments will never fully trust you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re well-decorated. The Hero of Dorhadgenedu, with a long list of awards, a commendation from your commanding officer…you could become regional commander yourself, when the current commander is promoted. You could go even further than that: you could rise high on the continent.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Kurt looked to de Sardet. “When we went to Teer Fradee, I couldn’t imagine a life beyond the Guard. I couldn’t imagine the future. Now, I cannot imagine a future without you.”

She looked back at him, remembering a morning in her bedroom in New Serene. “You are everything I want and everything I love,” she answered.

“Then you have both sacrificed what might have been glittering careers.” The Prince d’Orsay’s disdain cut through the moment. He looked to Kurt. “Had I known that this would happen, I would never have sent you to Teer Fradee.”

“Then I would be dead a thousand times over,” de Sardet replied. “Killed in the wilderness of Teer Fradee, killed in the Coin Guard’s coup, killed by King Vinbarr.” Kurt had saved her in a dozen fights: charging a _nadaig_ to buy her the time she needed to drink a healing potion, fending off two guards at once, charging Vinbarr to distract him while she cast a spell that had protected them all in the battle. _If not for Kurt, I would be dead, or joined with Constantin. If I hadn’t had so much to lose, I might have taken his hand._

“Even so, I hope you will not regret it.” D’Orsay eyed Kurt. “What you are giving up for a rough, common soldier...”

An ember of anger flared within de Sardet. “There’s nothing common about him. You know he is a good man. Kind, and honorable, and honest, and a better man than any in the Congregation.”

“As for what I’m giving up? Do you think it can tempt me? You are the ruler of the Congregation, the foremost of the merchant-princes of Serene. You have had a glittering career. Can you say that you are happy? Or do you think that you would have been happier if you had lived a quiet life, you and Helena and Sebastien, and never attracted the attention of jealous rivals and their assassins?”

She saw anger flare in Augustin d’Orsay’s eyes in return, but it was quickly replaced by sadness. “If you can achieve that life, then you will be lucky indeed,” he said. “Now, let us call your friend the cardinal in; he will be needed to aid in your departure.”


	20. Chapter 20

Petrus entered. “Do not worry, Your Eminence,” said d’Orsay. “Your loyalty to my niece is quite impressive, but your aid will not be needed. Not in any way that would cause a diplomatic incident between Theleme and the Congregation, in any case.”

“I have no idea what you could be speaking of, Your Serene Highness,” Petrus replied mildly. “I came only to pay my respects, and to inform you that I hope to depart for Teer Fradee sooner than you may have expected.”

“It will be as soon as you could hope, Your Eminence.” D’Orsay inclined his head toward de Sardet and Kurt. “You are well-acquainted with the Prince and Princess de Sardet, I understand?”

Petrus was momentarily at a complete loss. De Sardet had to laugh: she had never seen the diplomat so entirely without words. “It’s all right,” she told him. “He knows.”

“Knows, and would prefer to enlist your aid.”

Augustin d’Orsay detailed a plan that left de Sardet entirely impressed by her uncle’s abilities. _He didn’t know I had married Kurt, so how could he have come up with this so quickly?_ It took several minutes more before she realized, remembering the words her uncle had spoken to her months ago: _I never have only one plan._ Augustin d’Orsay had led the Congregation for over forty years because he attempted to anticipate every possible occurrence. _He may not have planned for me marrying Kurt, but he certainly planned for me marrying someone he didn’t approve of._ He had known that she would be twenty-five on Teer Fradee, out of his grasp, and capable of marrying without his consent, even if he hadn’t known she would fall in love. That had been enough for him to plan how to best salvage the situation if it did occur.

 _If having my husband murdered, bribing him to leave me, or convincing me to give him up didn’t work,_ she thought; the Prince d’Orsay had clearly considered each and every one of those options as well.

As Petrus and her uncle went back and forth, asking questions and answering them, filling in gaps in their plan, she was impressed to see how swiftly and how well they worked together; it was also more than a little disconcerting, given how much she admired Petrus and how much she despised her uncle.

 _He took me from my family, killed my mother, and lied to me. He brought me up only to use me. He had only neglect and disdain for his own son. He killed his second wife so he can marry again, and he will use any child born of that marriage, just as he will use his own illegitimate child if it suits his purposes._ She wondered if Augustin d’Orsay had any more illegitimate children of his own hidden away, if poor young Etienne did not live up to the memory of the incomparable Sebastien. _No child will ever live up to his memory. I only hope he will treat him better than he did Constantin._

Thinking of her uncle's attitude toward Constantin filled her with anger, as did her uncle's cold revelations regarding both his orders to Alexandre de Sardet and what he had known about Hermann, and part of her wanted to reject his plans entirely. Yet de Sardet could not help but be grateful that the prince had not made her life more difficult, and that even now, he was planning to help her. _If he wished, he could make my life very difficult._ She knew she ought to be glad that her uncle would keep her secrets, allowing her to retain her mother's fortune, name, and title in a way that would allow her to continue to help both her peoples. 

_He's hardly doing so out of the goodness of his heart,_ de Sardet reminded himself. _It isn't as if he's doing this from affection._ The only reason that the Prince d'Orsay ever did anything was to benefit himself, and that was as true now as it had ever been. _He could hardly have rumors swirling about why his new governor departed so quickly, especially if rumors reach Serene about how soon our first child was born._ Given the time and distance that separated the continent of Gacane from the island of Teer Fradee, she hoped no one would be closely paying attention to counting the months so precisely, but as she heard her uncle and Petrus spinning out their convoluted plots, she knew that it would all help protect her. 

_Regardless of his reasons, I will have what I have always wanted: a home on Teer Fradee, with Kurt and our child...children, if more follow._ She would be loved, happy, safe, surrounded by family and friends. _It is a life I could never have imagined in Serene. A life I never could have had, if I had remained here._ She was grateful for that.

But she was most grateful at the end of the night, when her uncle told Petrus, “Allow me to escort you out,” leaving them alone in the dining room.

Left alone, she couldn’t help but throw her arms around Kurt, kissing him, as if trying to make up for all the lost time. He kissed her back, holding her tightly.

“Sweet Excellency,” he murmured as she buried her face in his shoulder. “I can’t believe it. We’ve done it. We’ll go home.”

“But will it be enough for you?” she asked. “I hadn’t considered what it would mean for your career – your place in the Coin Guard—”

“All I want is to be with you. I knew what it would cost when you asked me to marry you. Do you think any place in the Guard would make up for losing you?” He brushed his hand against her cheek, then pressed it against her abdomen. “There's nothing in the world anyone could offer me that would be enough for that. The Coin Guard has been my family, but we’ll have a family of our own.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you before I accepted the governor’s posting. It felt like a bargain we struck, that he would let us go back quietly if I didn’t ruin all of his plans.”

“All of his plans? You mean, whatever marriage he’d planned?”

“More than that. Kurt, he wanted to make me his heir.”

“What? And you turned him down?”

“Of course I did. Do you really think that would appeal to me? Even if I didn’t have to wed some prince of his choosing and stay in Serene for the rest of my life?”

“No,” Kurt admitted. “That isn’t you, Green Blood. But the idea that he’d make the offer…”

“He’s lost Constantin. His only choices are to try to marry again and produce an heir, or to produce some illegitimate son who doesn’t even know whose son he is.”

“I feel bad for the boy,” said Kurt. “Not to mention whichever poor noblewoman gets offered up to be his third wife. Expected to produce a son as soon as she can, like as not to be poisoned if she doesn’t—”

“I wouldn’t feel too bad. He’s speaking of marrying Isabelle de Renaud.”

“Her? Well, then, I can understand why you’d lack sympathy. She’ll enjoy it, at least.” Kurt snorted. “She might well be happier with him than she would have been with Constantin.”

“They would never have understood each other,” de Sardet agreed. Her inconstant, daydreaming, impulsive cousin, wed to the scheming, practical, venomous girl who’d plagued her childhood and teenage years: she knew full well they would have been miserable together. _They both had a streak of vindictiveness and cruelty, a temper, and the desire to hurt anyone who’d slighted them, but Isabelle had none of Constantin’s better qualities._ She thought that most of the time, that anger would have ended up focused on each other. “I shudder to think of her as the new Princess d’Orsay, though. I’m glad we won’t be coming back.”

“Will you want to say your goodbyes, then? To your mother, and to Constantin?”

“I’ve already said them. I’m going to bring some of her things back to New Serene with us. My uncle has already promised to expedite things with the harbormaster; a few more crates will hardly matter.”

“For you, I think he’d turn smuggler.”

“And risk losing his boat?”

“If he heard you say that, he might change his mind,” Kurt laughed.

The sound of his laughter made her smile. “I’m glad you aren’t angry,” she said.

“Over you deciding to be governor without asking me? You don’t need my permission, and I can understand why you’d want the posting.”

“He wasn’t going to appoint Lady de Morange again, and I couldn’t imagine him sending someone else,” she said. “Someone like Henri de Renaud or Atherton d’Ailes…I shudder at the thought.”

“You’ll do a wonderful job. But who is he sending as your legate?”

“I can choose,” she said. “I was thinking of asking Lady de Morange if she’d be willing. If she isn’t, I know she might have some ideas. She’s spoken before of wanting to help her niece Margot.” De Sardet had met Margot de Morange during her return to Serene, and had found a lively young woman of nineteen, terrified of being forced into a marriage against her will, eager for adventure. She’d plied de Sardet for stories of Teer Fradee, asked with interest after any botanical discoveries, and even asked for lessons on the native language. “We might even bring her with us. If Lady de Morange doesn’t think she’ll make a suitable legate, she could at least visit her aunt.”

“And escape any chance of her father forcing her into marriage,” said Kurt. “You talk of my good heart, but you’re the one who’s always looking out for others.”

“You do have a good heart. I’m sorry my uncle said those things. He did his best to provoke me, too.”

“Trying to make sure we were sure of each other,” he said.

"Not out of any desire to ensure my happiness. It was one last attempt to salvage his plans, I'm sure of it. He hoped to show me that your regard for me relied on my fortune, and in doing so convince me that I ought to remain."

"He should have known that was impossible. What sort of man could be bribed away from his own wife and child?"

"I'm sorry he thought so little of you."

"Don't be. I'm used enough to hearing blue-blooded noblemen speak that way, as if it was only the coin he gave me that mattered, and not the word I'd given him to fulfil the contract. I don't care what he thinks of me; I’m sorrier he insulted you to do it.”

“It didn’t hurt. But what he said to you—” _He knew what happened to Kurt,_ she thought, and realized then that her uncle's words had been carefully chosen to hurt and enrage him as much as possible. _He was truly trying to provoke him. He wanted to make him too angry to lie._ “I wish he hadn’t. I wish he would have believed us both.” She paused. “But...the things he said about men trying to bribe you to let them hurt me, to hurt Constantin...were they true?”

“They offered, that’s true enough,” said Kurt. “It was early on; I wasn’t in Serene for three months before de Grandeville made his offer. Not that I knew it was him at the time; your uncle figured it out, once I told him about the catspaw who’d made the offer. The second must have been about a year later, and the third maybe two years after that.”

“My uncle had only mentioned two.”

“I never told him about the third one; I handled that myself. After that, the rest of the court figured out that bribery wouldn’t work.”

“I never knew. You never said anything.”

“What would have been the point? Knowing about it would only have frightened you, and for what?” Kurt’s mouth took on an angry set. “I hated those men. All of them the same, thinking that any amount of coin would be enough to make me sell out the very people I was sworn to protect, that I’d turn a blind eye while they hurt two kids, as if nobles were the only ones who ever had a claim to honor! I’d signed a contract, taken your uncle’s coin and promised to protect you, and I’d be damned if I’d go back on that for any amount of gold.”

“There are more important things in this world than money or power. Too often, it feels like the nobles here forget that.”

“I wouldn’t want to stay here for anything in the world,” de Sardet said. “Serene was my home once, and I’m glad I got to see that my mother was properly laid to rest, and Constantin as well, but…I’m ready to leave. I want to go home.” She leaned in close to Kurt; he kissed her again, gently this time, resting a hand against her abdomen.

“We’ll be there before you know it,” he promised, but before she could reply, she heard her uncle clear his throat.

“You should go. Remember our plan,” Augustin d’Orsay said, and she thought his voice sounded odd. Only after she’d reached the hallway did she realize that what she’d heard.

 _You act as if I never knew what it was to love._ She realized then that he had, and wondered if he had seen something of his own love for his first wife in her love for Kurt. _Did he ever kiss her so gently? Did he promise her that they would make a home together, that their child would be safe? Did he ever realize that he sacrificed them for the sake of his power?_

She swore then that she would never make the same mistakes. _I don’t even want to be the governor, not truly, but it’s for the best. Kurt will continue to advise Sieglinde, and I’ll do what I can for everyone – not just the inhabitants of New Serene, but all the people of Teer Fradee._


	21. Chapter 21

The next day, de Sardet was summoned to the Hall of Merchants. Her uncle was already there, surrounded by a number of merchant-princes of the Congregation, and both the diplomatic delegations of the Bridge Alliance and Theleme were present, albeit gathered on opposite sides of the room. Ambassador Karim and Ambassdor Sahin headed the delegation on the left, Cardinal Petrus and Cardinal Josephus on the right; as de Sardet moved to the front of the room, Petrus caught her eye and smiled as he inclined his head in greeting.

De Sardet managed a slight smile of her own as she passed him, but fixed her gaze forward as she approached her uncle's throne. “Your Serene Highness,” she said, performing a formal curtsey. “You requested my presence.”

“Indeed I did. However, I must admit to having called you here under false pretenses,” he replied, his tone light. “I knew that if I summoned you, you would bring your guard. It’s the major I wish to speak with.”

“Your Serene Highness,” Kurt said, straightening. He looked extremely uncomfortable with the attention that was suddenly turned his way; though he’d spent nearly half his lifetime at the Prince d’Orsay’s court, he had always been in the shadows, never the focus of attention.

“It has come to my attention that you were never properly honored for your actions on Teer Fradee. According to all reports from the island, you were personally instrumental in averting the coup; if not for your swift action, both Governor d’Orsay and Legate de Sardet would have died, as would Lady de Morange, Sir de Courcillon, Monsieur Vaillancourt, and all the embassy staff.”

“I’d known your son and niece too long to betray them,” Kurt said. “Those orders went against everything I am, and everything that the Coin Guard ought to be.”

“You put yourself at great personal risk. Guiding Governor d’Orsay to safety, dispatching messages to both Hikmet and San Matheus to forewarn our allies, storming your barracks in order to place Commander Torsten and his lieutenants under arrest…all of this displayed a great deal of valor, which I do not believe my son ever rewarded.”

“The coup began only moments after Constantin discovered that he had the malichor,” de Sardet offered. “Afterwards, he ought to have rewarded Kurt, but Kurt was not often in the city; Constantin had ordered him to accompany me in my search for a cure, and Constantin himself was most unwell. I fear his mind was quickly occupied by his illness; it was not long before he was in so much pain that he could think of little else.”

“So much that the pain drove him mad. We know what resulted,” said d’Orsay, with an expansive gesture at the other merchant-princes who were gathered around the base of his throne. “I am also aware that you fought well at Dorhadgenedu, Major; so well, in fact, that the Coin Guard promoted you to your current rank and decorated you with several medals, and that Commander Sieglinde, the commandant of all forces on Teer Fradee, has appointed you to a special advisory position, in the hopes that you will be able to prevent any further issues of corruption within the ranks. I am acquainted with Commander Sieglinde; she does not give out praise lightly. I am also well aware that you were badly injured during that battle, and yet refused treatment until you were certain of my niece’s life.”

“You are credited with having fought valiantly, and in doing so, having salvaged relations between the Congregation and its allies. Your actions during the attempted _coup d’etat_ prevented the Congregation from losing its only settlement on Teer Fradee; it also saved the cities of San Matheus and Hikmet. Cardinal Petrus, who was personally present in New Serene at the time, believes that your actions were instrumental in keeping the Coin Guard from assuming control over all civilized settlements on Teer Fradee…and while Theleme and the Bridge may have eventually sent armies mustered from their own populations to retake their lands, the Congregation has no standing army and no tradition of raising one. The time and cost involved may well have been prohibitive, and so I must thank you for keeping the Congregation of Merchants from losing its only foothold on the island, a settlement which we have invested a great deal into over the years.”

“When I hired you to protect and train my son and niece, I could hardly have imagined you would do so much for the Congregation. Yet no one in the Congregation had thought to reward you: not my son, nor Lady de Morange and others currently governing New Serene, nor my niece. Nor have you petitioned for one since your return to Serene.”

“I didn’t do it for a reward, Your Highness,” said Kurt. “Following those orders would have been dishonorable.”

“Yet you were the only member of the Coin Guard in New Serene who thought to defy them. I considered at length what an appropriate reward might be; after all, what should be given to a man who saved a city, chose loyalty to the Congregation of Merchants over the Coin Guard, and who personally saved the lives of my son, my niece, and a dozen others of the nobility besides?”

“It seems to me that such a man is himself worthy of a noble rank. I have drawn up certain letters of patent and had them appropriately sealed and witnessed.” D’Orsay held out a hand; a servant stepped forward with a thick envelope upon a silver salver. “These will be filed in the Archives of Nobility in Serene. Master-at-arms, captain of the guard: these will be titles of the past. From this day forth, you will be Sir Kurt de Montfort, a lord of the Congregation.”

Kurt had been expecting it, of course: it was part of the course plotted so carefully by Augustin d’Orsay, Petrus, de Sardet, and Kurt himself the night before. The title had been given at her uncle’s insistence. "It will be a necessary part of the deceptions involved in helping my niece to leave Serene without further damage to her reputation," he explained. "I require you to be a lord in your own right, Major...one created very publicly by myself, and therefore beholden to me directly." 

"You want people to think you're buying my loyalties." 

"I want them to believe that _I_ believe I've bought your loyalty," d'Orsay replied. "Shortly after, I will meet with my closest allies and explain to them that I have no intention of handing the governorship to any noble house. I have evidence that Lady de Morange funneled information to her brother that has allowed House de Morange to gain a disproportionate amount of power in the last five years; they will not wish me to give such power to one of their rivals. I will explain that you, Major, are a safer choice for governor: a new creation, beneath any of them, but my creation. You are a Coin Guard, you care only for coin, and coin I will have provided. I will tell them that I have bought you, and you will stay bought. Your actions in turning on the Guard during the coup have already established your loyalties to the Congregation of Merchants outweigh those to the Coin Guard; no one need know the true reasons." 

That had brought a disbelieving laugh from Kurt. "You're going to tell them you're making me the governor of Teer Fradee? Me, a Congregation lord and diplomat?" 

"I won't tell them; I'll hint of it, but will refuse to say anything outright. That, of course, will mean they take it as fact." 

"You told me that they would never accept Sir de Courcillon as governor," de Sardet objected. "Why will they feel differently about Kurt?" 

"De Courcillon is a noble name and family. A lesser name, yes, one that no self-respecting de Brossard or d'Amboise would ever take orders from, but an ancient family nonetheless. Any ancient family has friends and enemies, an agenda all its own, old friendships and feuds...but Major Kurt of the Coin Guard, whatever noble name he is given, is hardly comparable. By publicly giving him a title and buying his loyalty from the Coin Guard, it will be very clear that he is my creature - my tool, not my ally, more an extension of my will than a true lord. I will tell them that the major is a career soldier, that it is more likely than not that his title will die with him, and that this is a temporary solution, born of extraordinary times. And I will make it very clear that I feel I am doing this because I have no other choice...not if I intend to keep the factions in balance, with my own marriage to Lady de Renaud and my niece's marriage to some prince who favors the Bridge Alliance. I'll likely say Sir de Brossard was your intended bridegroom; he's a reasonable man, and will gladly accept financial renumeration as an apology for any embarrassment he might feel once the truth becomes known." 

Even then, Kurt had protested. "Can't you do that without giving me the title?"

"Certainly not. Protocol dictates that the governor of Teer Fradee must be a man of a certain rank...even if it is very clear that you've been elevated to that rank solely to allow you to fulfill that role." D'Orsay had steepled his fingers. "Let me also make it clear that, while the pretense of giving you this title is to enable this charade, it is not the only reason I am granting it. You have wed my niece, and yet, you are no one: a man of common birth, a soldier of the Coin Guard, without title or fortune of your own. If it is revealed that my niece married you as you are, her reputation will be injured, as will her effectiveness as governor." 

Kurt had argued that on Teer Fradee itself, no one would care, but d’Orsay had been implacable. “It will be a scandal, whether here or on the island. People will talk. Out of respect for her, they may refrain until you are both out of earshot, but they will talk.” 

“Do you think giving me a title will make them talk less?”

“Yes. They may still see you as an up-jumped soldier, but a title protects you both. Better the Princess de Sardet weds a lord of the Congregation than the captain of her cousin’s guard.”

“Nobility,” Kurt had said, shaking his head. “I’m no noble.”

“You are now,” d’Orsay had replied. “You were from the moment that you concluded your marriage...” His lips had twisted wryly as he finished, “Your Highness.” 

There was no teasing in d'Orsay's expression now, as he presented Kurt with the heavy scrolls and formalized paperwork that confirmed him as a nobleman of the Congregation. "The title of Lord de Montfort is hereditary, and may pass to the heirs of your body, should you have any. It comes with all the rights and privileges granted all lords of the Congregation, the right to style yourself as head of the House de Montfort, and subjects you to all the responsibilities of a nobly-born citizen of the Congregation of Merchants. I pray you will continue to serve the Congregation with such bravery and loyalty, Sir de Montfort. Consider this the reward my late son neglected to give, and accept my thanks for all you have done for our nation in your long years of service." 

Now, de Sardet had to smile as she saw Kurt shaking his head. “De Montfort,” he repeated.

“Given your actions in that mountain battle, it seemed appropriate. The title also comes with some monetary reward, to allow you to live a lifestyle more suitable for one of your rank,” said d’Orsay. “You may thank Cardinal Petrus for that.”

“To be more specific, you’ll have the Mother Cardinal Cornelia to thank,” Petrus said. “She was very grateful for your role in saving her life, as well as her city.”

“Of course, once the Bridge Alliance heard of her generosity, they were persuaded to match the sum provided by Theleme,” said d’Orsay.

“The funds will come from those confiscated from the estate of Doctor Asili,” Ambassador Sahin spoke up. “He was a man of considerable wealth, and died without any close relatives who might have claimed his fortune.”

“That money should have gone to the families of his victims,” said de Sardet. “The Nauts and natives who were tortured and murdered in the name of curing the malichor.”

“I do believe that some funds were set aside,” Sahin said. “If you wish, you may take up the issue with Governor Burhan upon your return to the island.”

De Sardet wondered how much money Kurt would receive, and if it was one more concession that her uncle had wrung from the special envoy of the Bridge. _He provided the title, and Karim and Petrus provided the funds._ She had no doubt that the Mother Cardinal’s funds were actually provided by Petrus, the profits of extortion and blackmail. Early in their acquaintance, Petrus had used her to accumulate political ammunition against Cornelia, telling her that it would give Constantin political leverage to use against her; Petrus had acquired that ammunition, along with a small fortune, when he’d discovered that Cornelia had a fondness for gambling on arena fights. De Sardet had fought, and Petrus had profited. _He had initially promised not to ask Cornelia to repay the debt, but she spoke of the cost of obtaining a cardinal's hat; he must have asked for something._ That made her feel uncomfortable; she had aided Petrus only begrudingly during that task, and still felt uncomfortable as she remembered helping to blackmail a woman who had not personally wronged her.

Now, it seemed, he was giving some of those profits back. _If it truly is Cornelia's money, we can't accept it...unless, of course, it is to return it to her._ House de Sardet's fortune was large enough that she and Kurt certainly didn't need anything more.

Kurt also seemed curious as to the sum. “It may seem uncouth of me, Your Highness, but…may I ask how much?”

“I would hardly speak of your net worth before the entirety of the court, Lord de Montfort; suffice it to say that it would support you in comfort here, and will certainly be enough to live in luxury on Teer Fradee. I am, of course, assuming that you will choose to return there to continue your duties, rather than retiring to Serene?”

“Yes,” Kurt said. “I’d like to return, sooner than later.”

“Very well, then. I hope that you are pleased with your reward.”

“Yes. Thank you, Your Highness. I could not have imagined it.”

Kurt retreated, as did de Sardet, leaving the Court abuzz.

“I still can't believe he did that," said Kurt. "Do you think this is going to work?" He glanced over his shoulder. "I think I can hear them talking from here." 

“Well, it’s not every day that a former master-at-arms is made a lord,” she said. “You do realize that there are dozens of merchant families who would have paid thousands of florins for a title and a noble surname?” Her uncle had not made Kurt into one of the princes of the Congregation: there were only a few dozen noble families that held that rank, whose houses were among those that elected the ruling prince each generation. But he was of the same rank as Sir de Courcillon, granted the noble ‘de’ and a lordship; it was something that rich merchant families like the Fontaines or the Vaillancourts would envy greatly.

"I can't believe they'll accept that."

“The way my uncle phrased it was deftly done; I’m certain that he used those arguments with his fellow princes, that the cost of losing New Serene was worth a noble title." 

“Especially as now I’ll go back to New Serene and stay there,” said Kurt. “As a soldier, they’ll probably expect me to die there.”

“Unwed and childless, so the title dies with you,” said Petrus. De Sardet and Kurt both looked up; the cardinal had followed them from the room. “My congratulations to the new Lord de Montfort," he said, giving Kurt and de Sardet a knowing look. 

_He truly seems happy for us._ De Sardet was glad of that. 

"I'm sure the Prince d'Orsay will expect great things of you," Petrus said. He inclined his head. "There is the governor's office to be filled, and I believe the Prince d'Orsay has already been extolling the virtues of having a career soldier who is wholly loyal to the Congregation stationed in that posting upon the island. I've even heard that a few of the noble houses are petitioning for the Prince d'Orsay to allow various lesser sons and allies to serve as ministers there, or perhaps to fill the legate's post." 

"In other words, they think I'm ignorant of the politics and will be easy to influence."

"You do know more of politics than you give yourself credit for," Petrus acknowledged. "Some will feign outrage that a new-made lord could hold such a prestigious posting, but with the Prince d'Orsay implying that House de Morange has been misusing their influence there, I believe most would agree...after all, if they cannot benefit personally from the governorship, they would prefer that no other noble house be permitted to do so." 

_It isn't as if any of this will come to pass anyway. Lies upon lies, schemes woven within schemes...all more of what I hope to escape._ Petrus seemed to delight in the intricacies of the plotting, as always, but de Sardet only wanted to go home. 

“Thank you,” Kurt interrupted. "For the money. You didn't have to." 

"I did," Petrus replied warmly. "Consider it an apology for ever doubting your worth." 

"And how much am I worth, exactly?"

"I thought that you might be interested in the sum.” Petrus didn’t say it aloud, but handed Kurt a folded half-sheet of parchment.

Kurt unfolded and read it. “You have to be joking.”

“It is the sum I made from Cornelia,” said Petrus, then looked to de Sardet. “Or, rather, the sum you made from her, when you defeated her champion in the arena. Consider it a gift.”

Kurt handed the paper to de Sardet. “You said this is what you made from Cornelia,” she said slowly.

"It is part of what I made from Cornelia," he replied. "I called only a small portion in...and made it very clear that the funds would go to you, if she would oblige me by paying. I may have pointed out that you were responsible not only for the continued existence of our settlement at San Matheus, but likely for the Mother Cardinal's continued existence as well, both because of your actions during the coup and at Dorhadgenedu."

“It wasn't necessary," de Sardet protested.

"By all means, if you wish, you can try to get Cornelia to take the money back. I doubt she would."

"My uncle said that the funds were provided by both the Mother Cardinal and Governor Burhan. Does that mean…”

“The Bridge will match it? Certainly.” Petrus smiled. “I must admit, my joy in giving that to you was only increased by the knowledge that the Bridge would have to find a sum to match it, lest they seem miserly or ungrateful…and that sum will come directly from Governor Burhan’s pockets, as I am well aware that he intended to divert as much of Doctor Asili’s estate as he could to himself.”

“It’s a princely sum,” said Kurt. “More than I could have made in a lifetime of fighting.”

“I’m sure the Princess de Sardet’s fortune is even larger,” Petrus replied. “But it should be more than enough for a lord…even a lord who wishes to start a family.”

“We can’t take this,” said de Sardet. “It’s too much. Petrus—”

“I will never have a child of my body. Do you think I wish for my wealth to revert to the Conclave of Cardinals upon my death? Trust me, my child, I am not giving you everything I own. After having used you unwittingly to gain those funds, it would be in poor taste for me to keep them. Besides,” he said, with a meaningful look, “the decision is not yours to make. Lord de Montfort may be your bodyguard, but his fortune is his own; he is an independent lord now, and a member of the nobility of the Congregation. Just as you are, Your Highness.”

“A member of the nobility of the Congregation,” Kurt muttered. He looked to Petrus. “And an officer of the Coin Guard still. Suffice it to say, members of the Coin Guard aren’t used to giving back coin when it’s offered.”

“It is a gift,” Petrus reminded him, “and it would be in exceedingly poor taste to refuse a gift. Particularly given my rank and position as an ambassador of Theleme. You would hardly wish to cause a diplomatic incident, would you, Lord de Montfort?”

“Call me that again and we’ll see,” Kurt grumbled good-naturedly, but didn't argue further.


	22. Chapter 22

It was the first part of the Prince d’Orsay’s plan. _Wheels within wheels,_ de Sardet thought, _and never only a single plan, or even two or three._ She knew from Petrus that he had already put the first part of his plan in motion, telling his fellow princes that he had created the new Lord de Montfort so that an entirely neutral lord, with loyalties only to House d'Orsay and the Congregation of Merchants, might take the governorship; she also knew that her uncle had implied that he would make at least one marriage announcement in the coming days, once matters with the Bridge Alliance were entirely settled. 

That night, she staged an argument with him: it was conducted within his private receiving chamber, adjacent to the Hall of Merchants, but within earshot of two waiting princes and the Bridge Alliance’s entire diplomatic delegation, waiting to receive him to review the final terms of the treaty.

"Are you certain of your path?" d'Orsay asked her once again; she still thought he hoped she would change her mind.

"Absolutely." 

He gestured toward the closed door. "Then make them believe it." 

De Sardet took a deep breath and began. “I will not marry Henri de Renaud, nor any of lord of your choosing! I am a princess of the Congregation, and I will not have my fate dictated to me by you, or by anyone!”

“New Serene requires a governor. I had thought to send our newly-made lord, but if you do not watch yourself, you will find yourself exiled to Teer Fradee until you have thought better of your defiance.”

“I am your heir!”

“Presumed heir. I am not dead.”

The argument grew more muffled then, though by that point, one of the princes and both of the Bridge’s ambassadors had given up even the pretense of trying to avoid eavesdropping. De Sardet heard the sounds of muffled footsteps coming from outside the door, and suspected they were huddled around it, listening in.

All of those present heard the Prince d'Orsay's ultimatum clearly, even through the door. "I find myself tiring of your intransigence. Choose a husband from among the nobility soon, or you will regret it.”

“Is that your only stipulation? That he be noble?”

“If it will make you choose, then yes. Why do you think I recalled you from the island? You’re of an age to wed, and while I intend to wed again, and soon, I would prefer that I have a selection of potential heirs. If not Henri de Renaud, then someone else...though House de Renaud would undoubtedly be ideal, as it would fulfill certain promises that House d'Orsay made while your cousin yet lived.”

“And what if I told you I preferred to remain independent? That I do not wish to tie myself into your web of alliances, or take a husband who will attempt to seize my wealth for his own, or rule House de Sardet in my stead?”

“Do not test my patience. Marry soon, or suffer the consequences.”

De Sardet stormed out, pushing open the door so abruptly that she nearly knocked over Ambassador Karim, special envoy of the Bridge, who had failed to back away in time. “Excuse me,” she said icily, but did not stop to help him up.

By the next day, the news was all over the palace: the Prince d’Orsay had demanded that his niece marry, was attempting to force her into the arms of Henri de Renaud and the faction favoring Theleme, and the Princess de Sardet was resisting. Cardinal Petrus was seen entering her rooms, presumably in an attempt to persuade her to accept the young man; he was also seen leaving, looking rather more defeated than usual.

_I wish we didn’t have to finish out this farce,_ de Sardet thought. Lies and pretense, all of it, schemes within schemes, acting as a pawn in her uncle’s plans: it was everything she hated about the court of Serene, and everything she would be glad to leave behind. _Every word of our argument scripted, plotted, and acted out for the benefit of the men listening in._ She had only been surprised by how blatant Karim had been in his eavesdropping. _I didn’t expect him to have his ear pressed against the door itself._ She’d felt rather bad about knocking him down.

To the servants in her room, she acted out her rage in a storm of packing. “I have to escape him,” she said, pacing back and forth. “I’ll leave.”

“But, Your Highness, where will you go?”

“I don’t know,” she said, even as in her mind, she was imagining Teer Fradee. “But I’ll leave here and never return. I’d do anything to be free of him. Marry a nobleman, he said. Any nobleman. Well, what if I don’t want to choose any of them? Henri de Renaud, Atherton d’Ailes, Jacques de Betancourt, Maurice de Beliveau: I’ve no desire to marry any of them. Fops and fools in their finery, all of them.” She chose her words carefully, knowing that they would be spread all over the palace, and waited.

“I was freer on Teer Fradee,” she said a day later. “He threatens me with exile, but how terrible would it be, truly? Better free a thousand leagues from here than bound to someone I despise.” That night, she refused to attend her uncle’s banquet: it was, she couldn’t help thinking, something that Constantin would have done, without regards to who he might be slighting in the process. _I wonder if Petrus has explained any of this to Cardinal Josephus,_ she wondered. _I'd hope he'll apologize for me, at least once all of this is over._

A day later, when her maidservant entered to ask her if she wanted lunch served in her rooms, she said, “He told me that I had to wed a nobleman – _any_ nobleman.” As if she’d had a sudden inspiration, she stalked out of the room, going directly to Kurt. After elevating him to the ranks of the nobility, the Prince d’Orsay had provided him with rooms suitable for his new stature.

“Kurt,” she said, and because she hadn’t seen him very often in the days since, couldn’t help but tease him. “How are you enjoying your new rank? What are they saying?”

“There are a fair number of princes who are absolutely outraged,” said Kurt. “I’m a rough soldier, born of no one and nothing, and they remember me teaching their brats how to fight. A fair few of them are the brats I taught.” While Kurt had given private lessons to both Constantin d’Orsay and Alexandra de Sardet, as the palace’s master-at-arms, he’d also taught group lessons to his two charges along with all the rest of the noble children at the palace. For a time, the Prince d’Orsay had especially encouraged it, believing that if Constantin learned to fight alongside other princes, it would foster camaraderie similar to soldiers who fought together.

_Instead, it only engendered hatred,_ de Sardet thought. Constantin had always been slender; as a boy, he’d been small of stature as well as frame. His penchant towards anger and vindictive streak had meant that larger boys had often delighted in getting to beat him in the training yard, the one place where it was acceptable for them to hit the son of the Prince d’Orsay, and while Kurt had always kept a stern eye on his charges, he hadn’t been able to prevent every instance of bullying. _There were always times when he was called away, or when he couldn’t pay attention to a dozen of us at once._ Eventually, Constantin had developed the skill needed to defend himself, but he’d done better once the Prince d’Orsay had given up on group lessons and reverted to allowing Kurt to tutor his only two charges privately.

“Has anyone been cruel?” she asked.

Kurt laughed. “I’m not a schoolboy. They might make their pointed remarks and turn their noses up when I pass, but it’s nothing that could hurt me. I attended dinner last night as a lord, and some of them seemed surprised that I knew which fork was used when. As if I hadn’t learned a thing in nearly fifteen years at this palace.”

“I should have gone down to dinner.”

“Why? So we could be seen together? This is meant to come as a surprise.”

“I know how uncomfortable you must have been.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you’d think. There are a few lords who seem to accept that I might have done something to deserve it, and a few more who think I’ve found the favor of the Prince d’Orsay and that they should at least be polite to me because of it. In addition, there seems to be a rumor that I’m going to be the next governor of Teer Fradee, and some of the lesser lords find it politic to bow and scrape because of it.”

“You’d find that just as bad,” de Sardet said. “All the lies and insincerity. I think you’d rather have people disdain you and be open about it.”

“That I would,” Kurt admitted. “I’ve never had much patience with any of this. Including this finery.” He was wearing an embroidered doublet, fine trousers, and polished leather boots of the nobility, along with a plain blue cape.

“You look splendid.”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Where did you find the wardrobe?”

“Your uncle sent a tailor to me. I’d like to call him a costumer. I’ve never worn silk in my life.”

“Get used to it.” She smiled. “The Prince de Sardet must look the part. At least you’ll never know the pain of wearing a formal gown. All those stiff brocades and starched lace. I used to make excuses to come down to the yard and practice just so I could get out of wearing a dress for a while.”

“And here I thought you liked spending time with me.”

“I did, and I do.” De Sardet offered him her arm. “Shall we disappear into the streets of Serene for a while?”

They ended up on the docks. Vasco greeted them. “Am I still going to have the honors of officiating?” he asked.

“Yes. I don’t think we’d find a clergyman in Serene who’d be willing to defy my uncle, and you were seen with Kurt at my uncle’s banquets; he’ll make it known that you two are close friends.”

“Because no noble of the Congregation would ever believe that the Princess de Sardet could be the close personal friend of a Naut fleet commander, of course,” said Vasco, but without rancor. “Are you planning on spending the night here?”

“Yes,” said de Sardet. “By morning, my servants will realize that I never returned, and they may well realize that Kurt is missing as well. If any of them piece together my remarks, word will surely spread. The Court should be in an uproar by the time we return.”

“But why?” Vasco asked. “All this false show and act, for what?”

“For my uncle,” she said, at the same time that Kurt said, “For her honor.”

“For what passes in the Congregation as honor, anyway,” Kurt amended as de Sardet looked to him. To Vasco, he explained, “If she’d told them that she’d married me before we left Teer Fradee, it would have been a scandal. The Princess de Sardet, marrying a lowly member of the Coin Guard, without a fortune or title, for no better reason than love.”

"What better reason is there?" 

"You and I might think that, but you know blue-bloods see things a different way." 

"Some of them," de Sardet corrected him.

Kurt couldn't help but smile. "It seems to me you told me once that your blood wasn't blue." 

"Because you'd already said it was green." De Sardet returned his smile. 

Vasco gave them both a look. "Would you care for a room? Though, come to think of it, that's what got you into this trouble in the first place." 

"I was in trouble long before that," de Sardet said warmly. She looked fondly at Kurt, then back to Vasco. "If they knew how long we'd been together, it would be a terrible scandal. I could lose everything." 

“After everything you've done for the Congregation?” Vasco was appalled. "Everything you've done on Teer Fradee-"

“Would mean absolutely nothing," Kurt supplied. "She’d be seen as throwing herself away. It would ruin her reputation within the Congregation. The princes of the Congregation never marry for love. They’re nobles; they arrange their marriages, and they do it to connect their families, or to gain wealth or reputation, or further some plot, or secure some alliance.”

“My uncle would be almost obliged to disown me,” said de Sardet. “Politically, it would make it far more difficult for me to become governor of New Serene.”

“This way, it’ll look like a rash decision,” said Kurt. “Officially, the Prince d’Orsay gave me a title with the intention of making me his governor.”

“Would they have accepted that?” Vasco asked. “I thought the governor of the island had to be from a princely family.” 

“Kurt’s reputation on the island would make up for his not being a prince of the Congregation; the other families would see it as my uncle installing someone who is undoubtedly his creature into the post. He would have been far more acceptable to them than many others; he has a title and rank, now, but lacks any sort of connections to other families, any sort of political bonds. His allegiance would be solely to my uncle, and to the Congregation.” De Sardet explained the plot, as both Petrus and the Prince d'Orsay had detailed it that night in the Prince's chambers.

“My uncle told them that he gave Kurt his title with the sole intention of installing him as a puppet governor, one who wouldn't be beholden to any faction. He pointed out the importance of maintaining a balance and placating our allies from both Theleme and the Bridge.”

"It doesn't hurt that several of them seem to think I'll be an easily-influenced idiot," Kurt said. "I think more than a few of them have chosen to support d'Orsay's plan in the hopes that they can make me into their dupe." 

Vasco laughed. "I would have liked to have seen them try." 

De Sardet smiled. “Several days ago, I staged an argument with my uncle in earshot of several members of the Court, in which he commanded me to wed, and threatened me with exile if I did not. I postured and declared that he couldn’t do it, since I was his presumed heir; he told me not to test him; and we shouted for quite some time before he commanded me to marry any man of my choice, so long as he was of noble rank.”

“Which Kurt is, now.” Vasco couldn’t help grinning. “Petrus came to drop off some of his luggage. He mentioned your new title. Sir Kurt, the Lord de Montfort, was it?”

“Yes,” de Sardet said, before Kurt and Vasco could begin to spar. “A lord in his own right. So now, I’ve taken it into my head to spite my uncle by running away with him.”

“And, like any lord who found himself suddenly propositioned by the Princess de Sardet, you said yes,” Vasco said to Kurt.

"I wouldn't proposition just anyone," de Sardet interrupted. She moved closer to Kurt. "I sought the protection of someone I knew to be a loyal friend and a good man...a far better choice than any I could have found, not just in my uncle's court, but anywhere." 

“So you came to me to marry you. Very good,” said Vasco. “I’m assuming you’ll be wanting a copy of your marriage contract?”

“My uncle’s taken care of that,” she said. “I've provided him with one of the copies of the true contract, but I'm sure he'll keep that to himself and substitute a false one in its place. After all, it would only cause problems if the true one was examined and found to have Lady de Morange’s signature on it, for obvious reasons. But we will be hoping to leave within the next few days. I suspect that tomorrow, we’ll have the revelation; my uncle will storm and rage and order us from his sight; and, within a day or two, we’ll be sailing to Teer Fradee, with my uncle having fulfilled his threat and declared me governor.”

“Won’t this look like something of a loss for him, since you’ve openly defied him and gotten away with it?”

“Neither of us will come off perfectly,” de Sardet said. “To the rest of the Court, I’ll have thrown away all my prospects with a rash, impetuous marriage to a man far below my station. They would have expected me to wed someone from one of the princely families, a future prince of the Congregation with generations of wealth and power behind them.” She interlaced her arm in Kurt’s. “They don’t realize that, to me, Kurt’s worth far more than all of them put together.”

“What of your uncle?”

“I’ll have defied him, yes, but he’ll have made good his threat to send me to Teer Fradee. He also plans to announce his marriage to Isabelle de Renaud, which will smooth over any insult that would have been caused by my rejection of her brother Henri, and will show that he intends to produce an heir of his own. At the same time, he will announce the conclusion of the negotiations with the Bridge Alliance, and reveal the extent of the reparations that they are going to grant for Constantin’s death. That will be a large enough triumph that it will soon cause this entire affair to be forgotten.”

“Which will leave us in peace on Teer Fradee,” said Kurt.

“Where we will be forgotten by all the great nobles and princely houses, and left in peace to raise our family,” finished de Sardet.

“The more you speak of palace life, the happier I am that my family gave me to the Nauts,” said Vasco. He looked again to Kurt. “Lord de Montfort. You couldn’t pay me enough to accept that title.”

“You might reconsider if you knew how much they’d paid him,” de Sardet said, smiling.

“No amount of gold would have been worth it,” Kurt said. “Getting to sail away from here with my sweet Excellency, on the other hand…” He wrapped his arms around her.

Even among friends, it was rare for them to display affection so openly, and Vasco gave them an amused look. “I was going to ask if you’d like to dine with me in the captain’s cabin, but you’ve been apart for so long that I’m wondering if I shouldn’t simply offer you that room instead.”

“We’ll be grateful for dinner, Vasco,” said de Sardet.

“I hope that palace hasn’t spoiled you for plainer fare,” he replied. “You’ll have to get used to eating like a Naut again.”

“It isn’t as if you forced us to live on bread and salted meat for four months on the journey here,” de Sardet laughed. “Truthfully, I think I’d prefer it to the palace’s food. It’s so heavily spiced that it turns my stomach.”

“Have you laid in enough fresh provisions?” Kurt asked, suddenly anxious. “Fruit, greens—”

“Plenty of Naut women go through a pregnancy aboard ship,” Vasco said. “You don’t have to worry. The journey will go smoothly. We’ll be in New Serene in less than four months.”

“Which should leave a little over two months to spare,” said de Sardet, but she couldn’t help a thrill of anxiety.

“We’ll be back in plenty of time,” Kurt reassured her.

“Has Siora returned?”

“Yes, and Aphra as well.”

“De Sardet!” Aphra said, emerging from below decks. “Kurt! I hope you’re as ready to leave as I am.”

“More than,” Kurt replied.

“ _Carants_ ,” Siora said, coming to stand beside Aphra.

“How have you been? Have you come any closer to finding a cure for the malichor?”

“A cure for those infected, no,” Siora replied. “But Eamon has been able to ease their suffering. He has prepared herbs that have helped. He is very kind. I have never seen someone with such skill and understanding.” She ducked her head, and de Sardet had to wonder if there was something more to her words than simple admiration.

“That is something, though not what I had hoped.” De Sardet thought of Constantin, clinging to a chair in a darkened room, and of her mother doing the same. “What of healing the land?”

“That, I have more hopes for.” Over dinner, Siora detailed the meetings between _doneigada_ and the various peoples that the Prince d’Orsay had brought to Serene: doctors, scientists, even farmers. “We have much to teach them. It will take time, but we will teach you how to heal the earth. I am not as experienced a _doneigad_ as Meira, Slan, or Ciran, but they all believe that when your earth is healed, the malichor will end.”

“You say you have much to teach them. Are you going to stay?”

“No. I wished to see your home, and to return with you, but I am _mal_ of my clan. I cannot stay here for years.” Siora shook her head. “Even if I was not so bound, I do not think I could stay. Your land is terribly wounded. The earth is poisoned, the waters fouled, the skies dark with smoke; you have cut down your trees and left only stumps; there are few birds and fewer animals. I long for home.”

“So do I,” de Sardet admitted. “Will anyone else be returning with you?”

“I do not know. I have told them all that they may return, but many are determined to stay. They have seen the suffering of your land and your people, and they will not leave until they have found a way to help.”

“Aphra, I hope that you haven’t found your entire stay here to be too terrible,” said de Sardet.

“I’ve seen more of that inn than I would have liked, but it’s given me time to organize my notes. When I return to Teer Fradee, I’ll look forward to spending more time with High King Dunncas and his people – and I’m hoping to learn more from whichever of the _doneigada_ choose to make the return journey with us.”

It was a pleasant night, spent celebrating with friends; each of them was eagerly anticipating their return to Teer Fradee. And, after a long dinner, de Sardet and Kurt did take Vasco’s offer of their private cabin.

As they undressed, she saw that Kurt still had his wedding ring on a chain around his neck. “I’ll be glad to wear it openly. I’ve never had it off – though it was a trick to keep that servant from noticing, the first night your uncle installed me in those fine rooms. I ended up telling him I could dress myself.”

“I know,” she said. She had worn her own ring out on the same finger as her magic ring, putting gloves over both; now, she switched it to the proper finger, on the opposite hand. As she so often did, she was wearing the necklace he'd given her the night before Dorhadgenedu, and she didn't hesitate to show him. “I’ll be glad to have everything out in the open.”

"Tomorrow," Kurt promised.


	23. Chapter 23

The following morning, they both dressed, then waited. “I don’t want to return until after midday,” said de Sardet.

“I don’t want to return at all.” But the time passed, and de Sardet found herself looking at Kurt, knowing they could delay no longer.

“Shall we face my uncle’s court?”

There was indeed an uproar when they strode into the Hall of Merchants together, de Sardet very pointedly holding Kurt’s hand. “Your Serene Highness,” she called out.

“Niece,” Augustin d’Orsay replied. He did a fair job of acting coldly furious. “May I ask where you have been?”

“You gave me an ultimatum,” she replied. “You wished for me to marry a nobleman of Serene. I have done so.”

That got the attention of the entire room. A few people gasped; more looked to the Prince d’Orsay.

A hush fell over the room. “You are telling me that you have wed.”

“The ceremony was performed last night, and the contract was properly witnessed and signed.”

“What clergyman of Serene would perform such a ceremony?”

“No clergyman,” she replied. “A Naut captain has that authority aboard his own ship. We were wed from the _Sea Horse_ , in Serene Harbor.”

Augustin d’Orsay appeared to be bursting with barely-controlled anger. He glowered at her, his gaze livid; his fists clenched and unclenched. “You little fool,” he breathed, the words spoken barely above a whisper, but the room was so silent that they could be heard perfectly by all those present. “And you, Major. Lord de Montfort. I created you, and this is how you repay me?”

“She came to me last night,” Kurt said. “She told me she didn’t wish to wed against her will. She asked for my help and protection.”

“So of course you must play the faithful guard,” d’Orsay sneered. “The loyal soldier. Her rank and title had naught to do with it.”

“They did not. Believe what you will.”

D’Orsay regarded him for only a moment longer, his expression flickering from rage to contempt. As if he had decided that Kurt was beneath him, he looked to de Sardet. “You have hurt yourself more than me. This impulsivity, this impetuous decision…I would have expected it from Constantin, not you.”

“I have made my choice. You cannot undo it.”

“I would not,” d’Orsay replied. “You may live with your choices, Princess, and your new-made prince…as governor of New Serene. You will not have a place at this court while I yet live.” His voice cracked like a whip. “You will depart for your post tomorrow, with the tide. I will see that all of your possessions are sent to New Serene; whatever you do not take with you will be sent to New Serene. I will, of course, see that your family estate is maintained in your absence.”

“And my mother’s tomb,” de Sardet said. Her voice quavered a little as she realized that it was truly a goodbye: she was not likely to see Serene again for years, if ever. While that was largely a welcome thought, there was something terribly final about the realization that her single visit to her mother’s tomb might well be her last.

Augustin d’Orsay paused, clearly taken aback; whether it was acting or because her words had genuinely surprised him, his face softened momentarily. “Of course,” he said, before returning to his usual coldness. “My sister’s final resting place will not be neglected due to your folly.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The prince went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to see that you will not have the inheritance you expect. House d'Orsay will have an heir of my body; I intend to marry again, and I pray the marriage will prove fruitful." He turned his attention to the gathered crowd. "As many of you are aware, I had intended to wed my son to Lady Isabelle de Renaud. As his death has made that impossible, I will wed her myself.”

The clamor that followed completely eclipsed the amount of noise that had been made when de Sardet had revealed her marriage. When it died down, d’Orsay said, “Lady Isabelle, come forward. I realize that this marriage may seem unexpected to many of you, but I have high hopes that it will prove fruitful, particularly as I now have need of an heir…”

As Isabelle de Renaud made her way through the crowd, d’Orsay leaned forward and said to de Sardet and Kurt, “As for you, go and pack your things. Get out of my sight. I will expect you to be at the docks well before the tide.”

De Sardet didn’t have to be told twice: she turned away, still holding Kurt’s hand, and made for the door. As she did, she passed Isabelle de Renaud: her childhood nemesis, who, de Sardet realized, had no power to hurt her now.

As they passed, Isabelle gave de Sardet a poisonously pleased look of triumph. “Lady de Renaud,” de Sardet said politely.

Isabelle stopped just long enough to look Kurt over with a sneer. “The Prince and Princess de Sardet. Or should I say the fungus-faced freak with her master-at-arms.”

It was an old schoolroom taunt, the sort that Isabelle had lobbed at her by the dozens when they were children. Kurt had comforted her then, pointing out his own scars and telling her that a mark or two on the face was nothing to be ashamed of; in later years, she’d also wondered if he might have said a quiet word to her mother, since Lady Isabelle’s mother had suffered from the princess’s displeasure shortly afterwards, and the de Renaud family had briefly taken leave from Court.

“Was he truly the best you could do?” Isabelle asked archly.

“He was far better than the alternative,” de Sardet replied. “Say goodbye to your brother for me, won’t you?”

She didn’t wait for Isabelle to respond; instead, she walked past her and out the door, Kurt at her side. As soon as they were outside, Kurt said, “All these years later, and she’s still just as insufferable as ever.”

“Let her have her moment of triumph. I can’t imagine that she’ll truly be happy with my uncle – especially if she doesn’t produce an heir in short order.”

“If she knew the truth, she’d be jealous. Well, more jealous of you than she already is.”

“Do you truly think she’s jealous?”

“You’re smarter than her, more talented, far better-looking…and her husband’s nearly twice the age of yours,” Kurt pointed out. “While she’s here, watching her husband rule over Serene, you’ll be ruling New Serene yourself. Why wouldn’t she be jealous?”

“When we were ten? Or twenty, for that matter?”

“She always knew you were the better person. And she didn’t know you didn’t have any plans to marry Constantin. She wanted to be at the center of power in Serene, and her plan all along was to marry him…but you were always together, and he clearly liked you much better.”

“The only reason he couldn’t stand her because she was so horrible to me.”

“Can you imagine her with Constantin?”

“She would have made him miserable.”

“They would have made each other miserable, is more like it. They’re too much alike in some ways, and not enough in others. She’s far too interested in the intrigues and the politics, and he wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with her.”

“I can only imagine what Constantin would have done if he’d come home to discover they’d arranged that marriage.”

“He might well have tried to run off and join the Nauts. Do you think Vasco would’ve taken him aboard as a volunteer?”

“Constantin as a Naut,” de Sardet laughed. “He would have been a terrible sailor. Enthusiastic, but terrible.”

“He would never have agreed to the tattoos.”

“Do you think so? I thought he might have enjoyed the novelty.”

“The novelty, yes, but the needles? I doubt that. Besides, he would have hated the thought of not being quite so handsome.”

“Don’t tell Vasco that he isn’t handsome. I don’t think he’d take it well. I don’t want to be left at the docks.”

They reached her rooms. “Do you have any packing?” Kurt asked.

“I’m ready to leave,” she replied.

They were interrupted by the maidservant’s entrance; she gawked at them standing hand-in-hand. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” she said, “but…the rumors were true?”

“If by ‘rumors’ you mean my marriage, then yes,” de Sardet replied. “This is the Prince de Sardet. We’ll be leaving for Teer Fradee tomorrow. I do thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Now, if you’d excuse us, the Prince and Princess de Sardet wouldn’t mind a little privacy,” Kurt said.

As the maid left, gawking at them both, de Sardet said, “Kurt! Are you really—”

“Just to talk, and to plan. Is there anything you’d like to see before we go? Anywhere you’d like to visit? I doubt we’ll be returning.”

“I wouldn’t mind visiting my mother one last time,” she admitted. “But I’ve said my goodbyes.”


	24. Chapter 24

They passed that afternoon in a final visit to the de Sardet family tomb; in the evening, they made an appearance at what would undoubtedly be the first of many banquets celebrating the Prince d’Orsay’s engagement to Lady Isabelle de Renaud. De Sardet and Kurt were still seated at the high table, but farther down the table: Isabelle had usurped de Sardet’s position in the place of honor, and on her side of the table, various members of the de Renaud family were interspersed with the cardinals of Theleme. Ambassador Karim had been given the position to the Prince d’Orsay’s immediate left, followed by Sahin, several members of the Bridge’s diplomatic delegation, and only then the Prince and Princess de Sardet. Given House de Renaud’s associations with Theleme, de Sardet suspected that their presence at the table might have been a concession to allow her uncle to avoid having to seat any de Renauds near the Bridge delegation.

The emissary of the Bridge who sat beside de Sardet spent most of the dinner looking squarely at his plate, clearly afraid to interact with de Sardet for fear of offending his host; that was perfectly fine with de Sardet, who knew she would have her fill of diplomatic dinners in the future. She was content to spend the night talking with Kurt, acting as if he was the only person in the room.

“This may be the only night I can flout all etiquette,” she told him as they danced. “One dance partner for the entire night, ignoring all our allies, even refraining from offering my congratulations to my uncle and his intended…I think I’m enjoying it.”

“I certainly am,” Kurt admitted. “Though I could do without all these fine lords and ladies staring at us.”

“They’d stare more if they knew the truth.”

She did seek out Lady de Nicolet, who was perhaps the only member of the nobility remaining in Serene she wished to bid a fond farewell. "I hope you're willing to speak with me," de Sardet said as she approached, arm in arm with Kurt. 

Sylvie de Nicolet smiled. "I certainly am. I must confess myself surprised...but somehow, I do not think this is the rash action the rest of this room believes it to be. I can see you are happy." She paused. "I do not know if you genuinely deceived your uncle, or if this is yet another of Augustin's plots...but either way, I think you have outmaneuvered him. Your mother would be proud." 

"I only hope she would be happy for me." 

"You are returning to the island she hoped would become your home, with someone who has clearly won your affections." She paused. "You do know that your mother was the one who arranged for his transfer to that island?" 

De Sardet glanced at Kurt. "It's true," he told her. "She asked me to look after you." 

"Though I doubted she ever envisioned that you would do so in this way. Oh, I'm not criticizing. I may confess that some part of me is indeed shocked, but..." Sylvie de Nicolet shook her head. "Your mother would have wanted you to be with someone who genuinely cared for you." She glanced sideways, at some of the lords who were surreptitiously casting glances at her, and added in a low tone, "She would certainly not have wanted to see you with the likes of Sir de Renaud or Sir d'Ailes. She wanted you to find someone to love, the way she loved your father...the way he loved her." 

"Then she would be very happy indeed," said de Sardet, pressing closer to Kurt. "I only wish I had been able to tell her. All her hopes for me, all her dreams...they have all come true." 

"I am glad," Lady de Nicolet replied. "As glad as Jeanne would be, were she here to see you." She reached out and embraced de Sardet. "Goodbye, Alexandra. I wish you all the best. Both of you." 

"And you," de Sardet replied. "Thank you." 

They both retired early; Kurt had taken the opportunity to abandon the chambers belonging to Lord de Montfort to move into her rooms. “We can be up at dawn. I’m sure Vasco will be ready to sail whenever we are.”

_Vasco will be waiting, but there will be no drunken Constantin to rescue before we can set sail,_ she thought wistfully, remembering their last departure from Serene. _No ambassadors to bid farewell, no errant cabin boys to track down, no political machinations to unravel._ She certainly hoped there would be no _nadaig_ to fight.

They rose with the sun; there was nothing to delay them. De Sardet had half-wondered if her uncle might say a final goodbye, but she did not see him before they slipped from the palace, and his seat in the Hall of Merchants was empty.

_I am of no more use to him, save as governor of New Serene,_ she thought. _And so, he will send me on my way, resenting me for refusing his offer, perhaps even wishing that I would have remained._

They made their way to the docks. De Sardet watched the sun rising on the cobblestones and thought of the last time she’d bid farewell to the city.

Vasco was on the docks to greet them, but the Nauts around him didn’t seem half as busy as they had the last time. “We were ready to sail two days ago,” he said. “I wanted to have everything ready. I’ll be glad to be off; my men are starting to get restless. It’s hard for them to be confined to the ship when in port.”

“We’re ready to go,” she said.

“As long as we don’t have to fight a monster first,” Kurt said.

“That might depend on your definition,” Vasco said in a low tone, looking past them.

De Sardet turned; her uncle was standing on the docks. One of his carriages was on the street, bearing his arms, with a single coachman and several guards waiting. She wasn’t worried about the guards: her uncle never traveled anywhere without them, and the four guards who were with him now were a smaller retinue than his usual half-dozen.

She turned and moved toward him; both Kurt and Vasco followed. As they approached, the Prince d’Orsay gave them a look of amusement.

“You can stop looking as if you’re expecting a fight,” he told them. “I’m here to say goodbye, not to stop her from leaving.” Turning back to de Sardet, he said, “As this will likely be the last time we meet, I thought I ought to see you off.”

“I’m surprised you thought it necessary.”

“You are my niece, after all.”

“The formalities must be observed?”

“You misunderstand me. We may not be related by blood, but you are still my sister’s daughter. You’re all that’s left of her. Your face may be that of a native, but your mannerisms…certain movements…I see Jeanne in you. I had nearly forgotten how much of her I saw in you, until you returned.” Augustin d’Orsay sighed, and in that moment, he seemed a nostalgic old man, not the foremost power in the Congregation. “I hope you do not regret your choices.”

“I won’t.”

“Then I wish you great success in Teer Fradee. May your tenure as governor be long and successful.”

De Sardet nodded. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your upcoming marriage.”

“It is amusing. Barely twenty-seven years old, and she thinks she can manipulate me. Like so many in her family, they believe I am bewitched by her beauty, and seek only to satisfy my desires in my old age. Well, she’ll soon learn I’m no lecherous dotard.” He stroked his chin. “In the meantime, I have made preparations for my natural son to come to Serene. I may choose to meet him when he arrives.”

“I hope he does not prove to be a disappointment,” de Sardet said, unable to keep the reproof from her voice.

D’Orsay heard it. “You still feel that Constantin would have proved himself.”

“I feel that you ought to have loved him whether or not he did.”

“I only hope that your child will not prove to be a disappointment.”

“You always treated him as one. If he did disappoint you, perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

“Or perhaps he was never cut out to rule. As events proved.” Augustin d’Orsay grimaced. “I do not wish to part as adversaries, Alexandra. Come, now. You have all that you might have wished: you have gotten your way, are now returning to your island with the husband of your choice, your reputation intact, and your position as governor of New Serene, with all the influence you could hope to possess.”

“I never wished to be governor.”

“Come, now. You wish to have the power and influence necessary to shape your homeland as you desire.”

“I wish to help protect the natives from the depredations of the continent,” de Sardet shot back. “Just as I wish to help my homeland find a remedy for the malichor. I believe that we can learn from one another, if we can remain at peace.”

“As governor, you will do your best to effect that. Well, I will promise you this much: my policy for Teer Fradee is one of peaceful trade and cooperation with the natives, as well as with our allies, and I will make sure that my heir is raised with a similar attitude. The Congregation thrives on trade, and we do far better in peace than in war. At least both factions seem to understand that for the moment.”

“Until the de Renauds begin pushing for closer connections with Theleme, and possibly a joint declaration of war.” 

“Don’t concern yourself with that. Oh, the alliance with the Bridge may seem somewhat strained at the moment, but now that Ambassador Karim has given us the promised concessions, I will fete him, make certain proposals to restore the Bridge’s influence, and perhaps even promise him that my son’s hand in marriage will certainly go to an ally of the Bridge. That will go a long way toward restoring some balance between the various princely houses, many of whom might otherwise become upset that I have favored House de Renaud with my own hand without giving another's to them to maintain the balance of power.”

“Which son will you offer?” de Sardet couldn’t help asking. “The one who isn’t yet born, or the one who doesn’t yet know he’s yours?”

“That remains to be seen. But that is also none of your concern. You are governor of New Serene, and your place is on Teer Fradee, not concerned with political matters here in Serene.”

“I’ll give thanks for that,” Kurt muttered.

D’Orsay heard him, and eyed him with that silent look of disdain; to de Sardet’s surprise, Kurt folded his arms across his chest and looked back. “I won’t apologize for it; it’s the truth. She’s safer on Teer Fradee than she would ever be here.”

“Ever the bodyguard,” d’Orsay said archly, but his attitude faded quickly. “You may be right,” he admitted, but any softness to his attitude faded as he squared his shoulders and looked directly at Kurt. “Don’t let your guard down. If you think you’re safe, you’ll grow complacent. Paranoia does a prince no good, but neither does distraction.”

“I’ve been considering,” Kurt said. “The Coin Guard provides your protection on the island – all your protection, since the Congregation has never had any sort of standing army. Perhaps you ought to consider raising a regiment of guards from the citizenry of the Congregation, one that takes their pay directly from the governor and not from the Guard.”

“To be the governor’s personal protection?”

“She’d have two details. One from the Coin Guard, the other from the Congregation. The men would have to prove their skill, their courage, and their loyalty first, so that we could be sure they could be trusted in close proximity to the governor, but they could be used for patrols and such first.”

“Won’t the Coin Guard complain?”

“I’m sure the captain of the guard will take it as a challenge to her authority, and some of the lieutenants in the barracks will grumble, but Sieglinde won’t give me a hard time over it. She’ll know why I want the extra security.”

“Fine,” said d’Orsay. “The formal order will come in the next set of dispatches from the palace, but you have my permission. If I ever hear that my governor has been assassinated, my next dispatch would be requesting your head.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask. I’d die defending her before I’d see her fall.”

“Uncle, you go too far. Who would want to assassinate me?”

“Constantin might have asked me the same question before his departure,” d’Orsay said sharply. “Though if he had, I would have told him to stop being absurd, as no one would have any desire to assassinate someone who had done nothing to prove his worth. Yet Doctor Asili attempted to kill you both within moments of your arrival.”

“It wasn’t a political assassination,” de Sardet said. “Doctor Asili was a madman.”

“Which didn’t stop him from killing my son.” D’Orsay’s voice was starting to rise; very visibly, he reined in his emotions, then took a deep breath. “You accused me of never caring for him. I was disappointed in him, yes, most deeply disappointed – but I did love him. He was my son; I could hardly do otherwise.”

He paused, then began again. “You may be aware that the wearing of miniatures is an old fashion in Serene. It fell out of fashion twenty years ago, but some of us never ceased.”

“Mother,” de Sardet murmured. Her mother had worn a miniature of Alexandre de Sardet all her life, either as a necklace or on a chain that was looped from the hip.

“Even so. I understand that Sir de Cortone used your stay here to properly finish his portrait, but I do not know if he informed you that he had finished several smaller studies and drafts just after your departure, working from his preliminary sketches. From those studies, your mother insisted that he finish a miniature for her. Considering he could not work from life, it was a very good likeness, though of course she could not see it.” He paused. “She wore it for the rest of her life. Even in death, it is buried with her; she was buried clasping a locket that contains both your portrait and that of the Prince de Sardet.”

De Sardet could picture it, her mother lying in a casket in her black dress and gloves, her milky white eyes closed, her face heavily covered in powders and pastes in an attempt to hide the veins of the malichor. She was so distracted by the thought that she did not see her uncle take a similar chain from his belt.

“You know what those pictures meant to your mother,” he said; de Sardet could see that the chain had several different lockets, each far larger than a pomander or even a pocket-watch. “They are a reminder of the ones we love, even when they are far from us, or lost to us entirely.”

He opened the first: as de Sardet had expected, the pictures were of strangers, a doe-eyed woman with a sweet face and a handsome young man with dark golden hair that might have matched Augustin d’Orsay’s in his youth. “Helena and Sebastien.”

The second contained a single portrait: Alexandra was not surprised to see her mother, but she was surprised to see that she was also pictured, a young girl standing while her mother was seated, her mother’s hand on her shoulder. “You were four at the time,” he said. “Even then, you couldn’t bear sitting for your portrait, but Jeanne insisted.” 

De Sardet couldn’t help but notice that, while her mother sat with her full face turned to the viewer, the artist had positioned her so that she was seen in profile: only the side without her _on_ _ol menawi_ mark was visible. _I insisted that Sir de Cortone paint me from the front._ She had not wanted to be ashamed of her birthmark, even when she hadn’t known the truth about what it was.

Again, lost in thoughts of the past, she startled as her uncle took the third portrait from the chain. “You know how dearly I loved them. Helena and Sebastien, Jeanne; even if you will not believe me, I am not without affection for you. Jeanne loved you so dearly that she insisted I consider you my niece in truth, and I could never deny her anything.”

“You are letting me return to Teer Fradee, with Kurt at my side and my own secrets intact,” de Sardet said quietly. “Despite everything, despite Constantin…”

Her voice died away as Augustin d’Orsay opened the third locket. Again, there was only one portrait within: not Heloise d’Orsay, whose twenty-seven-year-long marital alliance had apparently not deserved commemoration, but her son, who stared out from his portrait bright-eyed and ready to take on the world.

“Constantin,” she breathed. It was a perfect likeness, far better than any portrait he’d seen; she knew that her uncle had commissioned one from de Cortone prior to Constantin’s departure, but did not know if Constantin had ever ended up sitting for it. He had enough vanity to be flattered by the idea of a likeness, but in practice, he rarely had time for the hours involved. He was too easily bored, too prone to trying to talk to the artist, too eager to see the result.

“Do not say I did not love my son. When he was not yet an hour old, I held him in my arms. You have not yet held your own child in your arms, but when you do, you will understand. No matter what they make of themselves, no matter what they become, you will love them.”

“When Constantin was four and had the red pox, I sat in conferences with the ambassador from Theleme, half-distracted until a servant brought me the news that his fever had broken; when he was nine and the guards told me he was scaling the city walls, I was sick with fear; when he was sixteen and snuck out of the palace to carouse, I was furious, but I was furious because I was so frightened. He never did understand danger; to him, life was an adventure. He never knew what it was to lose someone he held dear.”

D’Orsay looked down at the miniature. “You know, when I told him he was going to become the governor of New Serene, we fought bitterly. He accused me of wanting to send him away, to hide my disgrace of a son; I told him this was his last chance to make something of himself, to prove that he wasn’t a disgrace. Later, he came to see it as his chance to escape me, but his first reaction was one of anger.”

De Sardet remembered her own first reaction: she’d been filled with dismay, unwilling to leave her mother, knowing she had no choice but to obey, but also knowing that if she left, she would never see her again. _By the time Constantin came to me, he was still upset, but already starting to talk himself into wanting to go._

“I loved him dearly, but we never understood each other. Or perhaps we understood each other too well, and were simply too different. I will admit: he disappointed me; I compared him unfavorably to Sebastien; if Sebastien had lived, he never would have been born, and I would not have missed him. But Sebastien died, and Constantin was my son, and I do miss him, more perhaps than I should. Were he alive, I am sure I would not think of him so fondly, but death has a way of erasing imperfections, or at least of making us forgive them more easily. But then, you never could see his flaws.”

“I am glad that he died knowing someone loved him, and that he did not die alone. That gives me comfort, as it should comfort you.”

_Did he know?_ De Sardet wondered. Constantin had died knowing she had betrayed him; he had died in her arms, but knowing that she had dealt the fatal blow. _Yet he did not kill me, or curse me for the betrayal, or accuse me of being like all the rest._ He had only been faintly disappointed, as if he hadn’t truly realized how near death was. _Or as if he had decided that he only wanted godhood if I was at his side._ The thought still hurt.

“I wish you well with your family, Alexandra. For your sake, I hope that you will fare better than I did, and that you never know what it is to love your children and yet have them disappoint you.”

“We will love them,” Kurt said. “You may have loved him, Your Highness, but Constantin never knew it. Our son or daughter…our children, if we have more…they’ll know we care. If they’re sick, we’ll be at their bedside; if they feel the need to scale the palace walls, one of us will be going after them. We won’t leave that up to servants – or to another child, for that matter,” he added, glancing at de Sardet.

“He never knew,” de Sardet murmured, echoing Kurt’s words; she was still thinking of Constantin, not of her uncle’s backhanded well-wishes. She looked to her uncle. “It would have meant so much to him if you had said those words. Why could you not tell him you loved him? Why could you not find something in him that you were proud of? Even if he did not have the accomplishments and the demeanor you expected…surely, you could have told him he was clever, or gifted, or skilled with a rapier? Could you not have said that you were glad he was your son?”

“I believed that I should give him praise only when he truly merited it,” d’Orsay replied, “and that withholding it might spur him to do better. He would have known if I was being insincere.”

“If you had told him you loved him, would that have been insincere? If you had said, even once, that he meant something to you as a person, and not merely as your heir?”

His eyes flashed dangerously, and de Sardet wondered if she might have gone too far. Kurt saw it too, and tensed, putting a hand out as if he expected to push her behind him, even though drawing a blade on His Serene Highness in the middle of the capital was treason, and punishable by death. Worried that he might act prematurely, de Sardet put her hand on his arm, meaning to prevent him from drawing, if it came to that.

But the moment passed: the anger in d’Orsay’s eyes faded, replaced by genuine grief, and both Kurt and Alexandra de Sardet relaxed. “Yes,” Augustin d’Orsay said, his voice hollow. “I might have told him that.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she demanded. _What sort of man might Constantin have been if he had grown up knowing he was loved? What if he had never felt the need to prove himself by amassing more power than even his father?_ She wondered what portion of Constantin’s madness had been driven by his need to free himself from his father, and what portion had been caused by the stress he’d undergone in the tumultuous months between his diagnosis and death, his fear of dying, and his desire to wipe away all the corruption and scheming he had dealt with in his twenty-six short years of life. _If you had raised him as your beloved son, instead of another pawn on your chessboard, everything might have been different._

She could have thrown those words at him, lashed out one final time at him for Constantin’s death, castigated him for his poor parenting, the greatest failure of the great Prince d’Orsay. She knew that, if their places had been reversed, Constantin would have done the same. _He would have screamed at his father, shouting himself hoarse before storming out to drink himself senseless._ She knew it because Constantin had done it countless times before, over far lesser grievances.

But Alexandra de Sardet was not Constantin d’Orsay. Even when they had been so closely attached to one another, they had not been at all similar; Constantin had always been outgoing and light-hearted, Alexandra quiet and serious. Constantin had always said what he thought, while Alexandra held her tongue.

She held her tongue now, and watched as the proud Prince d’Orsay, leader of the Congregation of Merchants, became a frail old man before her. His shoulders bent, and for a moment, he looked defeated. It was, she thought, perhaps the first moment when she truly believed that he had loved his son.

“I don’t know,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was too proud, too unwilling to admit any sign of weakness. If I had, I thought he would have used it against me.”

“Constantin was not your enemy,” she said. She looked at her uncle, still holding that open portrait, and said, “He was your son.”

“Yes,” said Augustin d’Orsay, “he was. _Is_ my son, even though he is gone. I pray you never know what it is to bury your child. That was a pain your mother knew all too well.” This time, his wishes sounded genuine.

“No matter the circumstances of your arrival here, whatever you still blame me for, remember this: your mother loved you dearly. She gave you the best life she could, died with your name on her lips, and wished only for your happiness. Serene may no longer be your home, but I hope you will remember her fondly.”

“I do,” de Sardet promised. “As I will remember Serene. I do have fond memories of this city, and of my life here.” She thought of her mother’s smiles, of the warmth of her embrace and the way she had always been so quick to lavish love and affection on her; of Petrus, then a mere priest, attempting to teach her magic; of Kurt laughing and calling her ‘Green Blood’ during a lesson; of chasing Constantin through the palace, pushing their way through a crowd of courtiers, entirely heedless of what was to come. There were plenty of bittersweet memories, and far less pleasant ones, but she knew her uncle was right: her mother had given her the best life she could.

“Of that, I am glad. Goodbye, Alexandra, and farewell. I wish you all the best, truly.” Augustin d’Orsay tucked the miniatures away inside his doublet, then took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I am glad you came back.”

To his surprise, and even to her own, she reached forward and embraced him. She could not recall the last time she had done so: the Prince d’Orsay was not a demonstrative man, and ordinarily she would not have had the thought, let alone dared to do it.

She was even more surprised when he returned the embrace, if only for a moment. He moved with the stiffness of age, and with the awkwardness of a man who hadn’t hugged anyone in so long that he’d entirely forgotten how: his arm came up, he leaned in a little, and then pulled back.

“Goodbye, Your Highness,” she said, and then, because it did not feel quite right, amended her words. “Farewell, uncle.”

He gave her a last nod and looked to Kurt. “You will give me no cause to regret this.”

“I’ll give her no cause to regret it, I’ll promise you that,” Kurt replied. D’Orsay only inclined his head slightly in reply before turning to go.

As he reached his carriage, he stopped and looked back. Their eyes met. “My niece,” he said simply, and in those two words, de Sardet heard everything he’d never been able to bring himself to say to Constantin. _I love you. I am proud of you._

Her heart swelled, but not for herself. _Could you not have said those words to him? Could he not have been enough? Why did you have to send him to Teer Fradee?_

"I'm surprised you had it in you," Kurt said. "After everything he's done to you..."

"And to you, and so many others I care about." She had told him what the Prince d'Orsay had said to her of his commands to Alexandre de Sardet, although she had debated long and hard before confiding in him what he had known of Hermann; in the end, she had known he deserved the truth, but she had still hated having to tell him. _Taking Vasco from his parents, his neglect of Constantin..._ She sighed. "But he is letting us go."

"Only because it serves his purposes."

De Sardet didn't dispute the point. "He is a cold, despicable man, who has done terrible things, and who still refuses to apologize. I do not know if I can forgive him for those deeds...but I do pity him." She rested a hand against her abdomen. "We have each other, and all our friends, and we'll have a family of our own in a home we've built together...but he is returning to an empty palace, with a wife who despises him and no true friends, where no one will mourn him when he dies. All he will ever have are his schemes and his lies, and...I cannot think that it will be enough for him." _It would certainly not have been for me._

Kurt gave her an affectionate glance. "You have a good heart, Green Blood." Then, as if realizing he could, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. "My sweet Excellency." 

Her uncle’s carriage vanished around a corner, heading back to the palace and to the life she was leaving behind forever, and Kurt put an arm around her. “Let’s go home,” he murmured, and de Sardet did not argue.


	25. Chapter 25

To de Sardet’s surprise, they did not leave immediately. Part of that was logistics: the three ships departing for Teer Fradee were berthed beside one another in Serene Harbor, and it would have been foolish for all three ships to depart at precisely the same time. “The _Star Fish_ will sail out first, then the _Merry Dolphin_. They’ll wait for us just beyond the mouth of the harbor, and then we’ll sail out together,” said Vasco. “I’ll have you home in no time, I promise.”

“We’ll both thank you for that,” Kurt answered. He looked to them both. “I’m going to go below deck and make sure everything’s there. I’d hate to think we left anything.”

“If you can, find Aphra,” de Sardet told him. “See if she has any of that ginger tea. I doubt the waves will help my stomach.”

“I believe she’s in her cabin,” Vasco offered. “If you’ll recall, she had a hard time getting her sea legs on the crossing here.”

It was a more diplomatic way of saying that Aphra had spent the first three days of the voyage with her head over a bucket, swearing about how stupid she’d been for leaving the island and how she should have stayed on Teer Fradee.

“Venturing into the lion’s den,” Kurt joked.

“My hero,” de Sardet said, brushing a kiss against his cheek. She was glad for the chance to do it: after so many weeks in Serene, the freedom to show her affection was liberating.

As Kurt vanished below decks, de Sardet turned to Vasco. “I hope our time in port wasn’t too trying for you. I know it’s a longer time ashore than you’d like.”

“Not as long as I was expecting,” Vasco replied. “And in truth, it was not entirely unpleasant. I spent much of the time with the captains of the _Star Fish_ and the _Merry Dolphin_. I knew Captain Francesca of the _Star Fish_ , but Captain Rodrigo is newly made; the crossing from Teer Fradee to Serene was his first as captain. Francesca and I went with him when he got his tattoo to mark the occasion.”

De Sardet glanced at the deck of the _Merry Dolphin_ , where a man in a captain’s coat and worn leather tricorne was pacing across the deck, calling out to his crew. He was short and compactly built, with olive skin that had been browned further by the sun, curling dark hair pulled into a queue, and a bright voice that rang out across the waters. “Lively, now! Give me some sails! Navigator, is our course set? We’ve been too long on land; let’s make for the open ocean!”

He reminded de Sardet of the first time she’d seen Vasco captaining his own ship, but not precisely: where Vasco had been serious, rarely smiling, Captain Rodrigo’s grin was visible even from the _Sea Horse_. As his ship began to pull out into the harbor, he laughed, a rolling sound that carried across the waves. “How old is he?” she asked.

“Not as young as I was when I made captain, to be sure, but still young enough that it’s an accomplishment. He’s thirty – but he’ll be quick to tell you that he made captain when he was twenty-nine, and turned thirty on the crossing here. Captain before thirty is every Naut’s dream.”

“What of making fleet commander by twenty-five?” de Sardet teased him.

Vasco returned her smile. “That’s something a Naut can only imagine. You might as well say that you want to sail to the Moon or marry a mermaid.”

"Then I suppose you'll introduce me to your mermaid bride soon," she teased him, "though any voyages into the stars will have to wait until after you've taken me home." 

"Rodrigo has been over the moon since his promotion," said Vasco, watching the dark-haired captain. "He's usually one to prefer the open ocean, but he's been so thrilled with command that he hasn't complained about any of the tedium that comes with being stuck in port." 

“He seems able,” she said as the _Merry Dolphin_ began to pull into the harbor.

“He is,” Vasco agreed. “He was promoted because of his actions during the crossing to Teer Fradee. The _Dolphin_ was struck by lightning during a storm; a mast caught fire, and the captain and first mate were both killed. Rodrigo was the second mate, but he got the mast cut away and hauled in the sails. That saved the ship, and they were able to limp into San Matheus. Once repairs were done, Admiral Cabral had them brought into New Serene to hold an inquiry; once she heard from the crew, she promoted Rodrigo to captain.”

“He’s quite the hero, then.”

“A hero and a damn fine sailor,” Vasco agreed, “not to mention capable of telling a grand story over a pint of ale at the tavern. He’s sea-born, but he doesn’t look down on the sea-given, the way some of them do.”

“I never knew that.”

“You saw how some of our people spoke of Alba,” said Vasco. “There are certain Nauts who mistrust the sea-given, especially if they join later in life, or if they show any interest in their family. But Rodrigo told me he thinks we go about it the wrong way. If it were up to him, every Naut who was sea-given would know where they came from and why they were given to the sea – if not from their childhood, then at least from the time they came of age. You shouldn’t have to wait until you make fleet commander to know your origins, or until you make admiral to be given a family name.”

“You’re given a family name when you make admiral?” de Sardet asked; that too was news to her. Vasco had told her a great many stories of his life among the Nauts, but he could still be reticent to speak of Naut custom; a lifetime of secrecy about the practices, laws, and customs of his people was still too well-ingrained for him to share information freely. “I thought that perhaps it was only the sea-born who have family names, and that the sea-given never received them.”

“No. All Nauts are equal under the law. By custom, the sea-born know their family names, but never use them. You’ve been aboard my ship long enough to know that everyone here is referred to by rank and first name, from the captain to the cabin boy.”

“I thought perhaps it was only that most Nauts were sea-given.”

“Hardly. I don’t know the exact proportion, but I doubt anyone does. I do think the sea-born probably outnumber us, but it’s not something anyone speaks of. All Nauts are family, and your shipmates are supposed to be closer than any family you have by blood.”

“That must be difficult to put into practice.”

“I’m sure that some of the sea-born must use their rank to help their families,” Vasco agreed. “Not that anyone else would know it. I do know of at least one captain who pulled rank to make sure her son served with her, and another who wanted to have his brother as his first mate, although I don’t think he succeeded. But such cases are frowned upon, and the admiralty is supposed to punish them if it’s discovered.”

“Which would be difficult, at least until the promotion is given or the assignment made,” said de Sardet. “I suppose it would be difficult to conceal your affection for your own son if you did make him your cabin boy.”

“It would,” Vasco agreed. “Which is why usually it would be more subtle: asking another captain for a favor in taking them aboard, or an admiral recommending a certain midshipman to a captain for promotion, or asking a new-made captain to take a sailor aboard as a favor. I’m sure all of those things are common.”

“Yet you made captain and then fleet commander entirely through your own merit,” said de Sardet. “That is truly impressive.”

“Thank you,” Vasco said, genuinely pleased. “I’d say that, with any luck, I’ll make admiral before I’m forty, but I don’t know that I’d want that so soon; admirals tend to spend too much time ashore, and not enough on the open waters.”

“When you do, will you choose your own surname? Surely you won’t go by Admiral d’Arcy.”

“Certainly not,” Vasco agreed. “Only the sea-born use the name they were born with. The sea-given are given a family name. If a sea-given admiral particularly likes you, they may offer an adoption, of sorts; it doesn’t give any rights of inheritance, but it shows the world that you’re connected. Otherwise, you’re given a name of your own. Admiral Cabral was sea-born; that is her family name. Admiral Galba was sea-given, and assigned a name.”

He watched as the _Merry Dolphin_ began to move out, and then looked back to his ship. “Excuse me,” he said, then shouted to his crew, “Storms and salt water, what are you playing at? Why hasn’t the gangplank been hauled up? We’re nearly ready to weigh anchor!”

“Commodore, sir, there are still natives aboard,” a seaman said nervously. “They’ve been talking in their own tongue, but they can’t all mean to leave. I thought you said we were only taking two of them back to Teer Fradee.”

“That’s right, as far as I know,” Vasco said. “Siora and Slan are returning.” Slan had insisted on returning once she learned of de Sardet’s pregnancy; she would, she insisted, be present to give her knowledge and assistance to de Sardet during the birth, should she need it.

“There are still three more aboard, sir. Jacopo tried to put his hand on one to convince him to go, but he knocked him down and snarled something about _renaigse_ and needing to let them have their time. I tried to talk to them about needing to leave before the tide, but they won’t listen.”

Vasco looked to de Sardet. “You’re the diplomat,” he said. “Would you care to handle this?”

“Certainly.” De Sardet made her way to the opposite end of the ship, where several members of the ship’s crew were trying to make their way unobtrusively around a group of five natives. De Sardet recognized them all. Siora and Eamon, a member of Dunncas’s clan, were standing together nearest the stern; Siora looked puzzled and upset, while Eamon was hesitant, looking down at his feet. The others were far enough away that it was clear they were trying to give them privacy: her aunt, Slan, was standing off to one side, speaking in a low tone to Ciran, while Eoghan, Ciran’s son, was standing with his arms folded over his chest, undoubtedly the _doneigad_ responsible for knocking Jacopo on the ground.

“What is going on?” de Sardet asked.

Eoghan glowered at her. “Go away, _on ol menawi_. Eamon needs to speak with Siora.”

“About what? Whatever it was, it needed to be said hours ago. The ship needs to follow the others from the harbor.”

“Let them speak. It is difficult for him,” said Eoghan.

“Difficult? Why?” De Sardet knew of Eamon as a quiet sort, but she also knew him to be responsible, not the sort who would disregard the ship’s schedule for his own convenience. “What does he need to say?”

Slan came forward. “My niece,” she said, and de Sardet could not help but contrast the way she spoke the words with the way her uncle had said them: to Slan, warmth came easily, and de Sardet was still amazed by how much affection she had developed for her in such a short time together. _We spent a few days together in Vignamri when I found her, and I did visit her afterwards, though not as often or for as long as I would have liked._ As Constantin's illness had worsened, it had become difficult to find the time to journey to Vignamri, especially when she had other duties to worry about. _I did stay with her when we went to inform Ullan that the High King was dead, and again on our way to Hikmet, when their envoys sent news that they were under attack._

Even given that fairly limited amount of time, Slan had accepted her unconditionally as part of her family. _The moment she heard I was returning to Serene, she decided to accompany me._ During that time, she had done her best to make up for so many lost years, telling de Sardet everything she could about her parents, her village, and her clan, along with their customs and language. _We were aboard the_ Sea Horse _for four months, but she has shown more affection toward me than my uncle did in nearly a quarter-century._

Now was no different. “Siora is your _carants,"_ Slan told her. "I know you care for her. Let Eamon speak.”

De Sardet turned to Eoghan and Ciran. “You intend to remain in Serene, do you not?”

“Yes,” Ciran said. “We will remain in the lands of the _lugeid blau_ until we find a way to heal your land. I would ask you to tell Dunncas to send more healers if he can, for I have never seen such injury. We will heal the land, and with it your malichor, but it will take time, and patience, and great skill. I would ask Dunncas to send healers who are also great teachers, so that they may teach some of the _renaigse_ to heal their land as well.”

“I will ask the High King,” said Slan. “By the time we return to Tir Fradi, she will be in no condition to travel the island. She will want time to remain at home and prepare for the child.”

Ciran nodded, and de Sardet realized with a start that Aphra must have informed the entire native delegation about her pregnancy when she'd asked them to return to the city. “Ciran,” she said, “no one in Serene can know that I am to have a child. Kurt and I have only just told them that we were married; if they were to hear that we are to have a child so soon, it would be a great disgrace.”

“The _lugeid blau_ are strange people,” Ciran said. “Among our people, it would be a great blessing to be given a child so soon after marriage.”

“I beg you,” de Sardet began, but Ciran shrugged.

“There is no need to beg, _on ol menawi_. We will not speak of it among the _renaigse_.”

“Thank you.”

“If we depart, will you allow Eamon to finish speaking with Siora?"

“How long do you think he will be? The ship cannot wait forever.”

“Some things, you cannot rush,” said Eoghan. “It is hard for him.”

“He ought to have spoken sooner,” Ciran told his son. Turning back to de Sardet, he said, “He will not take much longer, I think.”

De Sardet sighed. “If I might speak with him myself,” she began, and took a step forward.

To her surprise, Eoghan took her by the arm. “Eamon is my _carants_ ,” he said, pulling her back, but before he could say anything more, there was a sudden blur of motion and de Sardet felt him release his grip. Caught off-balance, she felt Ciran reach out to keep her from stumbling; by the time she had steadied herself, she looked down to see Eoghan lying flat on his back on the deck, Slan standing over him.

“Alexandra is my sister’s daughter,” said Slan. “She is with child. How dare you lay hands on her?”

“I would not have harmed her. All I did-”

“She is right, Eoghan,” Ciran said severely. “You will leave the ship now. I will follow.”

“But—”

“Now,” said Ciran, and Eoghan bowed his head.

“I am sorry for my son's behavior, _on ol menawi,_ " Ciran said. "May the grass be ever soft beneath your feet.”

“And your trees be ever heavy with fruit,” Eoghan offered, moving off with his father. 

Slan watched them go. “If you were not with child, I would go with them,” she said. “When I came, it was only in part because I wished to help you. I also wished to see where Arelwin had been taken, the land where she spent her last days. Part of me even hoped that I could see the _mal_ of the clan that had ordered her stolen from us, so that I could curse him to his face, and ask him how he could do such a thing.”

“I am glad you did not,” de Sardet admitted.

“I am glad as well. No good could come of such a thing, and it would only have caused trouble for you. Arelwin would not have wanted that. I spoke again to the mind-shaker about her, the one who calls you his child. He told me more of her, and took me to see where she spent her last days. It was a terrible place, a stone prison, and I understood why she asked to die.”

“I am sorry,” de Sardet said. She suddenly felt guilty that she had not asked Petrus to take her to that prison. _I saw my mother’s tomb._ Arelwin’s body had been burned, the remaining fragments of bone and ash dumped into the same mass grave as any prisoner, impoverished citizen, or malichor victim; the dungeons of Serene would have been the closest to her birth mother’s final resting place. “Sorry I did not accompany you.”

“Do not be. Arelwin would not want you to think of her in that place. She would want you to remember her in her village, in her land. To be in that stone prison would have been a great shame to her.”

“There could be no shame in it,” de Sardet protested. “She was stolen from her home and family, her daughter taken from her—”

“She would have been ashamed,” Slan repeated. “Ashamed she was not quick enough to escape them. Ashamed she was not strong enough to save you. Ashamed she ended her days in a prison of stone, with no connection to the land. You know how great a punishment that is for our people.” Slan lifted her chin, eyes blazing. “I would not have had you visit that place for anything in the world. Arelwin would not have wanted it. You would not have honored her by coming. If you wish to honor her, then teach your own daughters of our language. Teach them to honor our ways, even if they do not choose to follow them. They may not be _sin ol menawi_ , but they do not need to be _renaigse_.”

De Sardet nodded, ducking her head. “I understand.” She looked past Slan, to where Siora and Eamon were speaking. They were both speaking in the native tongue, but she had spent much of the voyage there learning; while she had not yet mastered the art of speaking Yecht Fradi, she had enough of the language to understand the gist of what they were saying.

“Eamon, I do not know what you are doing,” Siora protested. “The ship is ready to leave, and only now do you say you wish to speak?”

“I am sorry,” he said. “Sorry I have waited so long, and sorry that I have caused so much trouble by waiting.”

“First, you tell me that our mission here is too important, and that you must stay. Now, you tell me that you wish to leave, but you will not say why.” Siora glanced to de Sardet, then back to Eamon. “Brennus may be the oldest among us, Ciran the most skilled, but I am the leader, and I will decide if you are to stay or go.”

Eamon glanced over to de Sardet and Slan, then back to Siora. “Could we not speak away from the others? I would say these words alone.”

“You have had weeks, Eamon, and now there is no more time.” The words seemed uncharacteristically harsh, and de Sardet could sense a tense undercurrent of emotion in her friend’s voice. “Whatever you have to say, it must be here, now. If you cannot say it, then it would be better that you go.”

Eamon swallowed hard; his fists were balled in his hands, and he looked down once more at the deck. For a moment, de Sardet thought he might turn and flee, but instead he mustered his courage and looked up.

“Siora. You are _mal_ of your clan, a companion of the _on ol menawi_ who saved us all, a _doneigad_ of great skill. Since we arrived on these shores, I have come to call you _carants_ , but…” Eamon’s voice trailed off, and de Sardet finally realized what he was trying to muster the courage to say.

_He looks so much like Kurt,_ she thought, although physically, the two men were nothing alike: Eamon had dark skin and curls, dark eyes that were nearly black in contrast to Kurt’s light gray, and stood more than a head shorter than Kurt; his voice was high and melodious, contrasted with Kurt’s roughened tones, their accents as different as could be. Yet the expression on his face and the uncertainty in his voice reminded her of how Kurt had looked as he stood before her in Orsay Square, his voice failing as he tried to confess his affection.

Siora had not seen Kurt’s confession of love, of course, but de Sardet wondered that she didn’t understand what Eamon was trying to do. _When Kurt spoke, I_ _realized what he was saying much sooner,_ she thought; where by this point de Sardet had been ready to smile, there were still traces of anger on Siora’s face.

“I know we are of different clans. I know you are the _mal_ of your clan, and that there might be difficulties. But I have come to think that I can feel your mind is speaking to mine, and your heart, and your body…” Eamon rubbed a hand against his face; his palms were so sweaty that some of the paint smeared. De Sardet didn’t think he noticed. “I would call you _minundhanem_ , Siora, if you would let me.”

To de Sardet’s surprise, Siora’s response was immediate – and not nearly as affectionate as her own response to Kurt had been. “All these weeks, we have spent together. Then you tell me that you will have to stay, that healing the earth of these _renaigse_ is more important than the bond we share, and now you tell me you have changed your mind?”

“I did want to stay. I did want to help. I did not want to disappoint the High King,” Eamon admitted. “But as I saw you get on this ship, I realized I could not remain here without you. I love you, Siora.” _Cair to_ : it was one of the first phrases that Slan had taught de Sardet. “I want to be with you, no matter the difficulties. I will gladly leave my people and join your clan. I will face whatever comes, as long as it is with you.”

“If you ask, I will leave this ship. I will go ashore, and I will do my best to heal the earth of the clan of the yellow eyes, for the sake of your friend, and because I know how important it is to you that we do this for her. But I will do so with a heart that will never be whole.”

“I am sorry for waiting, Siora. I am sorry for not speaking. You know how difficult it was for me to speak the first time. You found it far easier than I. I am not used to having anyone to share my thoughts with; I have never found anyone who shares my soul as you do. Please do not ask me to leave.”

He took a step forward, and de Sardet realized that there were tears in Siora’s eyes. “Please,” Eamon said again. “Do not ask me to go. I would rather be imprisoned in stone, lose my bond to the earth, than to lose the bond I have found with you.”

Tears rolled down Siora’s cheeks, but she nodded. “I forgive you,” she managed, and as Eamon reached up to brush her tears away, she placed a hand on his cheek. “ _Minundhanem_.” She kissed him briefly, then pulled away. “But I still do not understand why you had to be so foolish! If you had spoken when we first returned to Serene, this would have been much easier.”

“It seems that love can make fools of us all,” de Sardet said; she was loath to interrupt them, but the _Merry Dolphin_ was nearly to the mouth of the harbor. “I assume that you will be staying aboard, Eamon.”

“Yes,” Siora answered for him, still looking at Eamon.

“I hope you don’t need anything from shore,” de Sardet said.

“No.” Eamon was still looking at Siora. “I have all I need.”

“I suppose Vasco can always find you a sailor’s coat, if need be,” de Sardet said, before realizing that there was a leather pack on the deck at Eamon’s feet. She smiled at Siora. “I am glad for you both.”

“I am so happy,” Siora admitted. “My heart has never beat like this for anyone.”

“Our two hearts beat together,” said Eamon, and embraced her.

De Sardet left the lovers and went to Vasco. “You can pull up the gangplank now,” she told him. “Eamon will be staying with Siora.”

“I can see that,” Vasco said, looking past her. “I don’t know that you could pull them apart if you doused them with a bucket of salt water.” But he was smiling as he ordered the gangplank up.

“Are you more forgiving of the delay now?”

“All sailors are hopeless romantics,” Vasco reminded her. “We may marry, but the sea is always our mistress.”

“Well, perhaps you will find someone who doesn’t mind sharing you with the ocean,” de Sardet said, looking out to the horizon; the _Merry Dolphin_ was just clearing the mouth of the harbor.

“It can be difficult,” said Vasco. “Any ship’s captain knows better than to get involved with one of their crew.”

“Does the same extend to fleet commanders?” de Sardet couldn’t help asking. “Say, a fleet commander and one of his captains?”

Vasco caught the look she was giving him. “Such a relationship would not be forbidden, no,” he admitted. “The commander would be expected not to show any favoritism to the captain, of course, and the captain would be expected to be transferred to a different fleet should the relationship end…taking their ship with them, of course. If a Naut’s mistress is the sea, a Naut captain is married to his ship.”

“No wonder ships occasionally founder,” de Sardet said. “If a man’s wife and mistress clash…”

“The result can be terrible,” Vasco agreed. “We do have a saying very much like that.”

“With a mistress and a wife, can you make time for a husband?”

“Some captains manage,” Vasco said. “Even some admirals. Admiral Cabral is married to the navigator on the _Sea Shrike_.”

“It may be worth a try,” de Sardet suggested.

“That it might. You and Kurt are certainly happy, and seeing Siora with her _minundhanem_ makes me wish for one of my own – something more than a few visits to the Coin brothel, or the sort of encounter that Naut captains sometimes have, knowing that it’s nothing more than a few moments of mutual need. Romance and courtship, not merely desire.”

“I hope you find that,” de Sardet said, but Vasco didn’t reply: the gangplank had been pulled up, and his attentions were needed elsewhere. Watching him rush about the deck, she realized that she’d probably kept him for far too long in the first place.

_It doesn’t matter now,_ she thought, seeing Kurt emerging from below decks with what looked to be ginger tea stopped up in one of Aphra’s glass laboratory flasks.

“What took so long?”

“Aphra had to stop throwing up long enough to make you a new batch,” he replied. “You look less green than she is right now, Green Blood.”

“I’m feeling fine now, but I’ll take that anyway.”

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned her as she began to drink. “What was going on up here? I didn’t think it would take Vasco that long to weigh anchor.”

De Sardet smiled. “One diplomatic situation that fortunately resolved itself,” she replied, nodding to where Eamon and Siora were still standing together at the stern of the ship. Sailors were still rushing around them, but neither seemed to notice; they were locked together in an embrace that shut out the rest of the world.

“A diplomatic situation?” Kurt asked.

De Sardet smiled. “Do you find yourself in need of a diplomat?” she asked, slipping her arms around him.

Kurt bent his head to kiss her. “My sweet Excellency.”

They watched Serene fade into the distance. “Good riddance,” Kurt said, but softened his tone when he saw de Sardet still watching the horizon. “Will you miss it?”

“No,” she said, hearing the real question in his voice. “Not at all. I can’t wait to get home.” She sighed. “I only wish we could stay in the legate’s house. I know we’ll be expected to move into the governor’s mansion, but…”

“Why don’t we buy the house? The house next door has been empty since we arrived; you could always make that into the new legate’s house, and keep the one we have for ourselves. Or build a new one. The city is always growing, and there’s room to the east. Build the Morange Quarter, off of Orsay Square. Or Courcillon Place.”

“I hope Sir de Courcillon made it aboard,” de Sardet said suddenly. “I didn’t see him this morning.”

“He boarded last night. He speaks of wanting to retire to Serene, but I think that coming home made him realize he may prefer the quiet of New Serene to that hornet’s nest. I certainly do.”

“So do I,” said de Sardet. She turned, taking Kurt by the hand. “Let’s go below decks. Aphra was kind enough to make this for me; I should offer to return the favor. I’m sure that Petrus will want to say hello.”

“I do believe Vasco assigned him the largest stateroom,” said Kurt. “We have our old room.”

“I’m glad.” She didn’t think that seeing Constantin’s old room would ache the way it had on the crossing to Serene, but now her memories of their room were wrapped up in her honeymoon with Kurt. _It’s the place where we conceived our first child,_ she thought, and couldn’t help but smile at the thought. _It’s good that the Nauts say that it’s where a child was born that counts, not where they were conceived…although I hardly know how they’d prove the latter, come to think of it._ “Let’s go say hello.”


	26. Chapter 26

As with their first voyage, the early days of the second were spent in celebration: the Nauts were in a festive mood, happy to be on the open ocean, and each of de Sardet’s companions were happy for their own reasons. Kurt was relieved that they were free of Serene, and that their return journey to New Serene should be completed with months to spare; Vasco was equally happy to be aboard his ship, with beautiful weather and smooth sailing; Petrus had his cardinal’s hat to celebrate, relating the details of the investiture ceremony and of the ongoing downfall of the Ordo Luminis with particular glee; Siora was eager to introduce them to Eamon, and to explain how their relationship had grown in their time together in the Congregation; and, once her seasickness had subsided enough for her to join them, Aphra was equally eager to question them, taking notes on the courting rituals and rules for betrothal and marriage in different clans.

De Sardet spent much of those early days in her cabin with Kurt: she had missed the casual closeness that they had enjoyed aboard the _Sea Horse_ on the journey there, and wanted to take the opportunity to make up for lost time as much as possible.

“You’ve been at my side for nearly the entire time we were in Serene, and I’ve missed you so much,” she said, curling into him in their bed. Far wider than any of the crew bunks, it was still narrower than the lavish bed they’d enjoyed in Serene, or the one in her room in the legate’s house. She appreciated that, although she wondered if she would still feel that way at the end of their voyage.

“So have I,” he admitted. “I’ve missed this. Waking in the morning to find you next to me…sometimes I expect I’ll wake again and it will all have been a dream. It seems too good to be true.”

“I’ll feel that way when we get home,” de Sardet said. “Until then, I can’t help but worry that something will happen – that we’ll get blown off course, or end up adrift for months on end, or…I don’t know what.”

“We’re not four months from Teer Fradee,” Kurt replied. “The voyage out is always shorter than the voyage back, and Vasco had us to Serene in just under four months. I don’t want you to worry about anything.”

A day later, de Sardet had been above decks when she encountered Siora, walking hand-in-hand with Eamon. They were speaking together in low tones, but Eamon left her as de Sardet approached.

“ _Carants_ ,” Siora said. A cloud passed over her face, but she forced a smile. “I hope you are well."

“Better than I was in Serene, certainly, but I do not think I will be truly happy until we have reached Teer Fradee.”

"Aphra told us you are with child," Siora replied, "and why you must return to Tir Fradi before the birth." 

"I'm so worried," de Sardet confessed. "I know that I should be home with months to spare, but..." 

"The _renaigse_ have kidnapped too many of our people," Eamon spoke up. "We would not let them take your child." 

"It should not come to that," Siora objected. "Vasco is a good man. He would not..." Her voice trailed off as she saw de Sardet's face. 

"He says it is the law of the sea, and that he would have to obey." 

"If he truly is a _carants_ of both you and Kurt, he would not dare." Siora's eyes flashed. "It would not come to that, but if it did, we would not let him do such a thing. I promise you, _carants_ , you have nothing to fear." 

"You saved our island, and you are _on ol menawi_ ," Eamon agreed. "We would not permit it." 

"I hope it doesn't come to that," said de Sardet. "Everyone reassures me that we will be home in time." She paused, then changed the subject. "I feel I should offer my congratulations to you both as well. I had no idea you had fallen in love." 

Siora and Eamon exchanged glances. "It was very gradual," Siora admitted, "and it was not easy to admit my feelings." 

“Are you worried about what may happen upon returning to Vedrhais?” de Sardet asked Siora. “From the way Eamon spoke at our departure, he seemed to expect there would be difficulties.”

The cloud that passed over Eamon's face seemed to show he agreed with her, but Siora looked to him. "I will make Eseld understand," she said. " _Cair to_ , my _minundhanem_."

"Why would Eseld disapprove? Surely your clan and Dunncas's are not enemies." 

“No, but a marriage between _doneigada_ of two different clans is not the usual way of things,” Siora admitted. “But neither of us was betrothed to anyone in our village, we are old enough to make our own decisions, and we love one another. That should be enough.” She touched her mark. “It is common for one _on ol menawi_ to wed another. In some clans, if one person chooses to bond themselves to the earth, the other must follow." 

"As Morian and Yewan did," said de Sardet, remembering the two lovers from Vigyigidaw. 

“Yes," Eamon said. "It is not the custom in villages like Vedrhais or Vignamri, where there are not as many _on ol menawi_ , but it is the way of Vigyigidaw." 

“And it must be the same earth,” said Siora. “That is why Eamon is worried. We have both undergone the bonding, but in different places.”

“Is that forbidden?”

“Not forbidden, so to speak, but it is not usual. Some may look down upon it. Like your marriage to Kurt,” she suggested. “One of us will have to make a choice, to always be far from our own earth. Eamon has already said that it will be him, as I am _mal_ of my clan, and there are many _doneigada_ within his own clan who might take his place in their village.”

“I don’t know how similar it is, but I understand your meaning. Will it be easier for you because you are a _mal_?”

“That will depend on Eseld.” Siora frowned. “I know she had ideas about who I should wed. There is an _on ol menawi_ within our village who has sought my hand before, Aed. I did not like him, and told him I would not agree. But he will not be happy, and neither will his family.”

“Are you planning to wed?” That surprised de Sardet, although she reflected that perhaps it shouldn't have. _They met before we left Teer Fradee, and spent a great deal of time together, both on the_ Sea Horse _and then in the Congregation. I may only have learned of their affection a few days ago, but I'm sure it's been of a far longer duration._

“We are _minundhanem_ ,” Siora said simply. “So long as we are permitted, we will wed.”

“What if Eseld does not permit it, or if the people of your village object?”

“Then I would have to make a choice,” Siora said. “You remember the family we met, when we pursued your cousin.”

"Yes, I remember them," said de Sardet. In his madness, Constantin had planned to kill a family for merely having seen him walking through the woods at night, out of sheer paranoia that they might give away his plans. “The woman who chose to wed her _minundhanem_ , and the children they had together.” She frowned. “Are you saying you would be exiled? Forced to live apart from both villages?”

“I would hope that would not be Eseld’s choice, but if we had no other…”

“Then you would be welcome to live in New Serene. But, Siora, I cannot imagine that would happen. Your clan knows what you have done for them. If you ask…”

“Your clan should have known what you did for them. Were they pleased when you told them you were wed?” Siora lifted her chin defiantly, the way de Sardet imagined she would do when she confronted her sister. “But Eamon is right. He is my _minundhanem_. If he had the courage to tell me that he could not remain here, then I must have the courage to tell Eseld, and to hope that my clan wishes for me to remain their _mal_.”

“Surely Dunncas would intervene—”

“Our High King would not interfere with a clan's decision about their _mal_. Not for this.” Siora clasped de Sardet’s arm. “But I am honored by your offer, _carants_. I do not know that we would accept, but I am glad to know that I will always have a place by your side.”

“You are one of my closest friends, Siora, and always will be. I’m glad that you came to Serene with me, even if we did not see much of each other while we were there.”

“I wanted to see your land and your people. I wanted to understand you better, as you have sought to understand me. And I was glad to go with you to see your mother, in that cold place of stone.”

“I know it is not the way of your people, but it was what she would have wanted.”

“Our people, _carants_ ,” Siora corrected her. “You are _renaigse_ , but you are _on ol menawi_ as well.” 

_And sea-born, too,_ de Sardet had thought, looking out at the open ocean.


	27. Chapter 27

It took another two days before she mustered the courage to seek out Vasco. Life aboard ship had begun to settle into its familiar routine, and he was standing at the bow, watching the ocean and feeling the salt spray on his face.

“This is freedom,” he told her as she approached. “The feel of the sun on your face, the smell of salt in your nostrils, the sound of the waves, the only sight a handful of other ships and the open ocean, as far as you can see.”

“I’m glad you love it so.”

“This is my home,” Vasco said, and gestured at the ship. “I know, you’re anxious to get to your own home. I promise, the voyage will be as fast as I can make it. It certainly won’t take six months.”

“If anything was to happen—”

“If anything happened to this ship, I’d put you aboard the _Dolphin_ or the _Star Fish_ and tell them to make for Teer Fradee as fast as they could. Or to head back to Gacane, if we had to.” He turned away from the bow. “I’d even tell them to make for our island if I thought it was the only land we could reach in time, and we’re not supposed to let anyone who isn’t a Naut set eyes on it, let alone come ashore.”

“But I’m—”

“You’re sea-born, but I hardly think Kurt would take it well if I told him he had to stay aboard while you went ashore,” Vasco laughed. “Besides, Aphra is so curious I think she’d take it upon herself to sneak ashore, if only to catalog the plants. But I’d do it, if I had to, for your sake and for Kurt’s. It’s hard enough when the Nauts take children from parents who don’t want them, let alone from parents who do.”

“Isn’t a child born on your island a Naut, the same way that a child born at sea is?”

“Surprisingly, no. There are birthing ships moored in the harbor for women to go to when it’s their time. A woman who gives birth ashore has to donate her child to the Nauts for them to become a Naut, and they’d be considered sea-given, even if both their parents were Nauts. The same is true for any Naut giving birth ashore in a port, like San Matheus or Hikmet. It’s part of the reason why most pregnant Naut women go back to our island to give birth; it might not be a rational fear, but plenty of them fear getting caught ashore on leave and not being able to make it back to the ship in time. At least on our island, you're never far from the coast, and there are always plenty of ships in harbor where a woman can give birth.”

“Worrying that the voyage will take months longer than it usually does isn’t a rational fear, either,” said de Sardet. “But I worry about that…or that the baby will come early, or that something will go wrong…”

“I can’t blame you for it,” said Vasco. “Most women on the island end up spending their last few weeks of pregnancy aboard one of the birthing ships because they want their child to be sea-born. Everyone worries about something.” He paused. “Everything I’ve told you is a secret, of course.”

“Of course,” de Sardet said with a smile, then hesitated, thinking of the last secret she had to reveal to him: the reason for the d’Arcy family’s donation to the Nauts. “Vasco…when we were in Serene, when I first told my uncle that I had wed secretly and was with child, he asked me if you were the father.”

Vasco barked out the beginning of a laugh before catching himself. “I’m not sure why everyone seems to feel I’m the most likely suspect.”

The corners of de Sardet’s lips pulled upwards. “Perhaps it’s because you’re a dashing seafarer, rakish and daring, closer in age to me than any of our other friends.” Her smile faded a little. “Kurt was always present at my uncle’s court, always in the shadows. I think both my uncle and Constantin came to overlook his presence, and had difficulty believing that I might have seen him as anything other than my old master-at-arms.”

“Whereas a new face is always the first suspected,” Vasco said.

“I believe Constantin was certainly taken by your charms.”

"He had his moments." A fond smile of remembrance came over his face; not for the first time, de Sardet wondered precisely how enchanted he had been. She hadn't inquired, either of him or of Constantin, and Vasco didn't volunteer. _I do believe he was hurt when Constantin ordered that_ nadaig _to attack._ "Though he always did tell me to smile more. You know I wasn’t predisposed to be inclined to any nobles when you came aboard, though he did his best to get me to warm to you both.”

"His efforts had to be better than mine." De Sardet smiled. "To think, I thought you were upset at me for weeks because I'd called your ship a boat..." 

"I shouldn't have been so short with you," Vasco replied. "Especially after you'd helped Jonas. That was wrong of me." He frowned. "Constantin would tell me about your lives in Serene...childhood stories of how you'd grown up in the lap of luxury. The way he spoke of his own father, I couldn't envy him, but I did envy you." He paused. "Eventually, I grew rather tired of hearing his tales, and I think he realized it. I'm sorry now that I didn't show him more patience." 

“He wasn't offended. On the contrary, he was completely pleased with our time aboard the _Sea Horse_. I honestly think those may have been the happiest months of his life. Free of Serene, anticipating the pleasure that would come from ruling New Serene, believing himself to be embarked on the greatest adventure of his lifetime…” De Sardet had to smile, caught up in her memories of Constantin aboard the ship.

“I’m glad he had some happiness. It seems neither of you had much in Serene.”

“I certainly had more than Constantin.” De Sardet paused, looking out at the sea. The conversation had strayed far from its original point, and she realized that she could let it lapse then and there. _But that wouldn’t be fair to Vasco. I owe him this._

“Constantin may have thought that we were involved because he could not imagine me taking an interest in Kurt, but my uncle…my uncle’s thoughts went to you for another reason,” she admitted. “You know that I was born aboard a Naut ship. You know that I was taken from the Nauts, and that it strained the relations between the Nauts and the Congregation for many years after.”

Vasco’s brow furrowed. “We’ve spoken of this,” he began, but de Sardet didn’t let him finish.

“When my uncle took me from the Nauts’ ship, it ended in violence. A ship's captain died, as did several of his crew, and many more were injured. There were riots in the streets. The Nauts demanded a steep price to make peace. My uncle offered gold, and he did give them a staggering sum, but that was not enough.” She took a deep breath. “Vasco, the Nauts demanded children as part of the reparations. Forty commoners’ children, from the streets of Serene and the surrounding farmland…and a dozen children from noble families. The donations were all called not long after I was taken...no more than a year or two at most.”

She saw the realization dawn in Vasco’s eyes: his jaw slackened, his lips parting slightly. “Are you saying…”

“My uncle called in debts from a dozen noble families. He threatened some, cajoled others, promised favors that only the ruler of the Congregation could grant. The d’Arcys owed him a substantial debt. If he had called it in, he would have ruined them. Instead, he forgave it…at a price.” She swallowed hard. “You know what he asked.”

Vasco’s throat sounded dry. “He required they donate a son to the Nauts.”

“You know how little difference there is in our ages. My uncle believed I already knew; after all, I knew the truth of your heritage, the timing of your donation and my birth, all of it. He thought that I had fallen in love with you out of a belief that our fates were intertwined, or that fate itself had brought us together, or…I hardly know what. What matters is that, believing I already knew the truth, he told me all of it.”

“Your family may well have wanted you, Vasco; they did not forsake you because they wished to gain a shipping contract, or because they wanted to dispose of an inconvenient child. My uncle threatened them with ruin, to satisfy his own debt, and to ensure that the Congregation itself did not lose all ties with the Nauts.” De Sardet’s vision blurred, and she found herself wiping at her eyes with one hand. “I should have told you before we left Serene. I should have asked you again if you wished to be introduced, and if you wanted me to explain all. It was not fair of me to wait.”

“You had other matters on your mind,” Vasco replied, and his tone was so completely free of rancor that de Sardet could not help but look at him. “There’s no reason to be so upset. Nothing’s changed.”

“Hasn’t it? You knew that your family gave you to the Nauts, but not why – not that it was my fault.”

“You can hardly believe that. It was the decision of the Prince d’Orsay, and no one else’s.” Vasco’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Though part of me wonders if some of the blame ought to fall on whatever captain accepted his offer. Your mother was kidnapped from her homeland and forced aboard one of our ships. It wasn’t as if she had a choice of whether or not to give birth there. It was unjust to name you Alexandra de Sardet and raise you in Serene, but it would have been equally unjust if the Nauts had named you Alessandra and raised you on our island.”

Vasco only rarely criticized his own people, and de Sardet had never before heard him suggest that she should have been allowed to stay with her mother instead of being raised as a sea-born.

"I've told Admiral Cabral before, and I'll tell her again: the Nauts should have no part in dealing with human cargo. We've done so far too often, transporting slaves for the Bridge, so-called heretics for Theleme, indentured servants for the Congregation, convicts...I refused to take such cargo as a captain, and I won't do it as a fleet commander, either. Transporting soldiers of the Coin Guard or willing passengers is one thing, but the Nauts shouldn't have any part of moving people against their will. That captain should never have let the Prince de Sardet take your mother aboard one of our ships in the first place. He deserved to lose his life for it." 

Again, it was harsher criticism of the Nauts than de Sardet had ever heard him make, and she was touched. "I'm sorry, Vasco. I hardly know what agreement my uncle had with the Nauts, but I wish they had never agreed." She remembered her uncle's callous words, the orders he had initially tried to give the Prince de Sardet. _Alexandre de Sardet had no qualms about kidnapping a pregnant woman and taking her child from her, but he drew the line at rape._ Augustin d'Orsay hadn't cared how he'd gotten a native child, so long as he obtained one. _He knew my adoptive father needed an heir; the lie he plans to tell the world if discovered is a lie he would have made truth._ "My uncle was so determined to obtain a native child that he was willing to pay any price." 

"The worst of the price, I'm afraid, was paid by your parents," Vasco replied. 

"And by yours, and so many others." 

“It wasn’t your fault, de Sardet. The Prince d’Orsay wanted you for one of his plots; all of it was orchestrated by him. I wonder how many lives that man has ruined, and how many have died because of him.”

“I was the reason,” de Sardet persisted. “My uncle wanted a native-born child to raise as his own, so that when I was grown he might send me back to Teer Fradee to help forge an alliance between the natives and the Congregation…and I did exactly as he wished. Even now, I’m returning to New Serene to govern in the name of the Congregation, to ensure peace between our peoples…”

“Is that a bad thing? Would you rather someone like Burhan or Cornelia take your place? Or one of the princes you met in Serene, for that matter? You don’t want someone who’d turn a blind eye to exploiting and enslaving the natives – someone who’d let what happened to you and your mother happen over and over again.”

“That’s why I accepted,” said de Sardet. “But if you had never been given to the Nauts…”

“I’d be miserable, I’m sure of it. If you’d told me this while we were in Serene, I’d have told you the same thing I did after we met Bastien: I’ve no desire to meet my parents, let alone tell them of our relation. I doubt they’d care if I did. Nothing you’ve told me changes what I think of them. Nauts take children from noble families to forge a contract or settle a debt; they gave me to the Nauts to settle their debt with the Prince d’Orsay.”

“Had they not, they would have been ruined. The sum was tremendous.”

“How much?”

De Sardet hesitated.

“If I was worth so much, I can hardly be insulted. Now, I may not be worth fifty-two children and a fortune in gold, but what was the price?”

De Sardet named it; Vasco let out a low whistle. “That is indeed impressive.”

“It was more than half their fortune, as I understand it.”

“It doesn’t matter. They still put a price on my head. They were still willing to sell their son.” Vasco folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me, even now, would you be willing to sell your child for any sum of gold in this world? Would Kurt?” De Sardet didn’t have to answer. “Lord and Lady d’Arcy did it without a second thought. They never tried to find me. I searched for years, but they’ve never done the same.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to think on this, and nothing you’ve told me has changed the way I feel – except for one thing. I’m more grateful to you than ever.” Vasco inclined his head toward her. “When you first started to help me, I told you that it must have been fate that deemed you were born a noble, and I a Naut.”

“And now you know it was anything but.”

“You said your uncle thought that our destinies might have been linked, and so they were. Not in a romantic sense, of course, but in the sense that I am only a Naut because you are a noble, and each of us in our place because your uncle deemed it should be so.”

Vasco’s hand rubbed against the tattoo on his chin, the one that marked him as sea-given. “I’d still like to think that it was fate that brought us to where we are. I’m happier as a Naut than I would ever have been as Leandre d’Arcy; visiting the palace as a guest made me realize how miserable I would have been growing up there. There were no jewels or finery aboard a Naut ship, but there was freedom, excitement, and always something new to be seen.”

“Growing up, I wanted to believe that I had a rich family who’d truly loved me, a mother and father who’d been loath to give me up, or tricked into giving me away, or that I’d somehow been stolen, the way that you were…and now I know the truth of it, and the mother and father I wished for never truly existed. Not that it might have been any better if they had: you were stolen from your mother and father, after all, and it isn’t as if a warm reunion awaited you after learning the truth.” Vasco paused. “I’m sorry. That came out more harshly than I intended.”

“It’s all right. I know.”

“As for your fate, well…you’ve had the harder time of it, it seems, but if you hadn’t been taken from your mother and raised in Serene, you never would have met most of us. You would have had a mother who loved you, but it wouldn’t have been the mother you knew. You would never have known your cousin, or befriended the rest of us…you might have known Siora, but I doubt you would ever have met any of us.”

“I certainly would never have known Kurt,” de Sardet murmured. Her hand drifted absently toward her abdomen.

“You’ve had your share of sorrows, but I doubt you’d trade them for a life where you’d stayed on Teer Fradee,” said Vasco. “I’d like to think that we all have a destiny, one that steers us through the storms of life to calmer waters and more pleasant shores. If that’s the case, my destiny steered me to the Nauts, where I belong – just as yours has brought you here. Back to your home, but with the friends who love you.”

It was a fine thought, but one de Sardet was not entirely sure she agreed with. _Was my mother’s destiny to die far from home, alone and miserable in a stone prison? Did Kurt’s destiny require him to suffer Hermann’s abuse? Was Constantin always fated to die? Was I always fated to kill him?_ She had seen how easily things could have ended differently, and while part of her would have been comforted by the idea that there was some larger hand of destiny guiding her to a happier fate, another knew that it was her choices that had led her there.

_All our choices led here._ Augustin d’Orsay had chosen to order Alexandre de Sardet to abduct a pregnant native; Hermann had chosen to abuse his youthful charges; Constantin had chosen to pursue the lure of power offered by the ritual. _I chose to kill him._ It would have been comforting to believe that it was her destiny, that she’d had no choice in the matter, but she knew the truth.

Vasco saw her doubt. “I hope you don’t have any regrets of your own. I can’t say I’m happy about what happened to you or your mother, but I am happy that the d’Arcys gave me to the Nauts.”

“I don’t know if I could ever say I was happy that my mother was taken from Teer Fradee, or that I was taken from her, but I’ve made peace with it,” de Sardet replied finally. “I’m at peace with the choices I’ve made. And I am truly happy with my life.”

“That’s more than most can say.” Vasco reached out and clasped de Sardet on the shoulder, a friendly gesture. “All Nauts are family, they say, but I think you’re the closest to a sibling I’ve ever truly known. Our lives have truly been intertwined, in a way that no one else’s could ever be: not Bastien’s, nor any of the shipmates I grew up with, nor even yours with Constantin’s. Don’t say that you’re to blame for my being a Naut; instead, say I am the man I am today because of you. I’d rather be a fleet commander than a fine lord, even a prince of the Congregation.”

“I am glad,” de Sardet admitted.

“By now, you should know me better. I was envious of you once, but after everything I’ve learned of Serene, nothing could make me wish myself Leandre d’Arcy.”


	28. Chapter 28

At first, the voyage proceeded smoothly, but a little over halfway through, de Sardet began to grow worried: it was only a few weeks into the voyage when her pregnancy began to show, a small bump that soon became more noticeable, and perhaps a month after that when she felt the baby kick for the first time.

She was in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, when it happened: a strange sort of fluttering from the inside, unlike anything she’d ever felt. Putting a hand over her midsection, she waited, but couldn’t feel anything from the outside.

Next to her, she felt Kurt wake. “Sweet Excellency? Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” she said, and then it happened again.

“What is it?” he asked, and then she realized.

“It’s the baby. It’s moving,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I can’t feel anything from the outside, but…” She smiled. “Aphra said it would happen when I was about four or five months along.” _We should be around two months from Teer Fradee. Everything will be fine._

But the next week, the winds died, and they found themselves becalmed. For the first few days, de Sardet managed to stay calm, but as the days stretched into a week, she couldn’t help but worry.

“There’s nothing we can do,” said Vasco. “These are sailing ships; we need the wind. It’ll resolve soon enough.”

“You can’t know that!” It was the most snappish de Sardet had ever been with him, and she quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Vasco, but I’m so afraid…”

“I know,” he said, and even through his reassurances, she could tell that he was troubled as well.

“I don’t want you to worry,” Kurt told her. “It can’t be good for the baby. Or for you, for that matter.” In the privacy of their cabin, he sat down on the bed next to her, holding her hands. “I promise you, I will not let anyone take our child from us. If I have to cut my way out of here with a sword, I will.”

“My uncle was the last to do that, and the consequences—”

“Damn the consequences. Damn the Nauts, too, if they’d try it.”

Aphra was of a similar mind. “It’s ridiculous,” she said. “This so-called law that permits kidnapping and indenture…for that’s what it is, isn’t it? An indenture of a lifetime of servitude to the Nauts? At least the Coin Guard offers its recruits ten- or twenty-year terms of service.”

“I would imagine that they’re not wholly bound,” said de Sardet. “If Vasco had chosen to do so, he might have left his guild.”

“As an adult, after a quarter-century of service. That’s quite a lot of time.”

Petrus took a different mindset, although he was of a similar opinion. “I have spoken with your aunt, and we agree: should the worst come to pass, we will not let the Nauts take your child from you. Your aunt and Siora both tend to favor plans that might well lead to war between the Nauts and the natives, or perhaps even between the Nauts and the Congregation.”

“I know.” Slan and Siora both favored getting de Sardet and her family off the ship with force if necessary, then sending them far inland for as long as it took for the Nauts to accept that they weren’t getting her child. _I’m sure my uncle would be pleased to hear that I had ruined relations between the Congregation and the Nauts as soon as I set foot on Teer Fradee._ While de Sardet was ultimately willing to do whatever she had to keep her child, she had to believe there would be another way, if the worst did come to pass.

“I would prefer not to use force,” said Petrus. “Not only to maintain your relationship with Commodore Vasco and the Nauts, and the Nauts’ good relations with the natives, the Congregation of Merchants, and even Theleme, but because I believe Admiral Cabral ought to see reason.”

“You have helped the Nauts countless times. You alone are the reason their secrets have remained so. Need I remind you that you still possess those secrets?”

“You’re suggesting that I blackmail the Admiral.”

“I’m suggesting that you offer your continued silence in exchange for your child.” Petrus steepled his fingers. “It should not be so difficult to convince her to agree. You are, after all, a Naut, at least in the strictest sense. Surely the Nauts could not object to allowing a Naut to raise her own child?”

“Nauts don’t raise their own children. They give them over to others on their island to raise them for them.”

“They will make an exception,” said Petrus. “At least, if they do not wish for the truth regarding their so-called ‘sea-magic’ to be revealed throughout both Teer Fradee and Gacane.” He paused. “Aphra has been examining their instruments, and I took the opportunity a few nights ago to entice one of their sailors, a certain Lauro, to drink with me. He was quite verbose while under the influence.”

“I don’t know, Petrus.”

“You may not have the choice.”

“There must be another way. A stasis spell,” she said suddenly, grasping at straws. “You can put a person into stasis for seconds or minutes; could you do so over and over again?”

“For days, or weeks? Certainly not. Even if I had the will to cast such a spell over and over, which I do not believe possible in any case, I cannot help but think that it would be dangerous to both your health and your child’s. I would prefer not to subject you to any sort of magic.”

“I agree, my child, it would be best if you can return to Teer Fradee to have this child. I certainly pray that it will be so, and hope that we are all worrying for nothing.” Petrus’s mouth set into a thin line. “But I swore to Arelwin that I would do everything in my power to protect her child, and I would sooner die than see you suffer her fate. To have her child taken from her, to know that she was being brought up by those who had stolen her away, believing you would never know her name or how much she loved you…that devastated her as much as those years of confinement in that stone prison. I will not let that happen again!”

Petrus’s voice rang out, as angry as she had ever heard him, and de Sardet could not doubt his sincerity. After a moment, he calmed himself, and added, “It is always better to plan for the worst outcomes, even if it seems that none of the choices you have is ideal…and in this case, using the information you have may be the best of those choices.”

De Sardet knew how upset it would make Vasco if she did. _But what if I don’t have a choice? What if I have to choose between our friendship and my child? Would he truly ask me to make that decision?_

The thought kept her up at night. Kurt knew, and did his best to allay her fears. “I swear to you, I won’t let it happen. We’ll find a way. The sailor will see sense; he has to.” He rested his arms around her; it was becoming more difficult for her to nestle into him as she usually did, but they managed. “It may not even happen at all. We’ve been becalmed a week; it would need to stretch to months before you have anything to fear.”

“What if something else happens? What if the wind picks up, but then there are storms? What if we’re swept off course?”

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t let them take our child. Even if it was me against all the Nauts on this ship, I wouldn’t let them.”

A few days later, as the calm stretched on, she had another idea. “I’m the governor,” she said, “and until I appoint one, I could be the legate, too. Or you could be.”

“Me? Why would it matter?”

“Because the legate’s residence belongs to the Congregation,” she said. “Even in San Matheus or Hikmet, the legate’s house is considered to be on Congregation soil, subject to Congregation law. If I am a legate, or you are…then maybe one of us could be legate to the Nauts, and our cabin wouldn’t be Naut territory at all. It would belong to the Congregation.”

“And a child born on Congregation soil is a Congregation citizen,” Kurt said, nodding. He had been born in the Congregation himself, although he’d left before he could walk. “Or in a cabin claimed by the Congregation. Do you think it would work?”

“It has to.”


	29. Chapter 29

Kurt went to see Vasco in the captain’s cabin. “Kurt,” Vasco said, looking up as Kurt pushed his way in.

“We have to talk.”

“I’m hoping the wind will pick back up. My navigator has seen signs—”

“I don’t care,” Kurt said. “Whether or not we get underway, we have to have this settled.”

“We’ll be back to Teer Fradee with plenty of time to spare. There’s only been a fortnight’s delay—”

“This time,” said Kurt. “Who’s to say it won’t happen again? Or that we won’t run into a storm and take damage you’ll have to fix, or that we won’t be driven off course?” He’d heard de Sardet worry about each of those things a dozen times in the last week. “I want to make this clear: whatever happens, you’re not taking our child.”

Vasco scowled. “We went over this before you boarded.”

“What were her choices? Give birth in Serene? I know that neither of us thinks much of those blue-bloods, but give them credit: they know how to count. They’d have seen through d’Orsay’s story in an instant. Or would you have asked her to take the cardinal’s suggestion, and travel to some strange city in Theleme, to give birth surrounded by strangers? How long would we have had to stay there? I can’t believe that ship’s travel is safe for a newborn, or that you have any doctors aboard who’d be able to tend to a sick baby, if need be.”

“She needed to go home. And now she needs you to reassure her that you’re not going to try to take our child if she does have them here.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t—”

Kurt slammed a hand down on Vasco’s desk. “Damn it, you can! You talk about your crew holding a mutiny if you did, but you’ll have worse than that if you try.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I shouldn’t have to. Not if you’re her friend…our friend,” Kurt said. “You say she’s a sister to you, that Nauts are all family. Well, act like it.”

Vasco deflated. “She’s been a better friend to you,” Kurt said, and Vasco looked up. “The old fox wants to blackmail you, her aunt is ready to take the ship, and she won’t hear of it from either of them.” He told him of de Sardet’s plan. “Would it work?” he asked. “Call the cabin the Congregation embassy, say it’s Congregation territory. Would Cabral accept it?”

“I don’t know,” Vasco admitted.

“After everything she’s done for your people,” said Kurt. “All your talk of the lost sea-born—”

“Which is why we can’t have another. I don’t know if the Nauts will accept it.”

“You and I have both talked about our guilds’ recruiting methods. You hate recruiting children as much as I do. Why support it now?”

“I don’t want to support it,” said Vasco. “But…it isn’t as easy as you want it to be. It’s the oldest of laws, the way our guild sustains itself…and de Sardet herself being a lost sea-born who refused to return to our people will make it even harder. My people have a hard time admitting when they’re wrong.”

“And you have a hard time going against them,” said Kurt. When Vasco looked up in surprise, he added, “The Nauts are your guild, your family, and your identity…the way I once thought the Coin Guard was mine.”

“Until I came to Teer Fradee, that’s how I defined myself, or tried to: a Coin Guard. A coin-fed mercenary, hardened and cold, who signed a contract, got paid, and looked to his own honor.”

“I don’t think you were ever only that,” Vasco offered.

“No, but it made it easier for me to sleep at night, pretending I was. What else did I have? What else could I ever have?”

“I know you found a home outside your guild, but I am a Naut. It’s all I ever wanted to be…well, once I realized what it was I wanted.”

“Which you only realized because Green Blood helped you, the same way she helped me realize I was far more than a Coin Guard, and that she was more than a lady of the Congregation.”

“I know I owe her,” said Vasco. “But I also have my loyalties to my guild. Even now, you’re still loyal to the Coin Guard.”

“But I’d choose her first…just as I’d choose my own honor. Just as I always have.” Kurt spread his hands. “I know it’s hard, going against your guild. But if they ask something of you that goes against your honor, your integrity, everything you are…how can you refuse? No one should be able to ask that of you. If they do, they don’t deserve your loyalty.”

A storm passed across Vasco’s face. “I am a Naut,” he said again. “That is the core of my identity.”

“You’re also a good man, with thoughts of his own, who’s always done the right thing. All I need you to do is promise my sweet Excellency that you’ll do the right thing, if it comes to it.” Kurt squared his shoulders. “Unless you want to tell her that you’d tear her child from her arms and take them away, the same way old d’Orsay did to her mother.”

“Either way, she deserves to hear the words from your lips, now, before this goes any further.”

Vasco looked down for a long moment, then at Kurt, then sighed and rose from his chair. “Let’s go.”

Kurt followed him back to their cabin, where de Sardet was pacing the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around her abdomen. “Kurt,” she said, when the door opened, then stopped. “Vasco…”

“De Sardet,” Vasco said. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I know you’ve been worried.”

“Did Kurt ask you about the embassy? Do you think that it would work?” She gestured to the writing desk in the corner. “I’ve been writing up papers to make a formal declaration, although part of me is afraid that I lack the legal knowledge I’d need to make it as ironclad a statement as it might otherwise be—”

“It will be fine,” Vasco said. “I wanted to tell you that, whatever happens, I will not try to take your child from you…or let any of my people do so, either. However they protest, whatever the Admiralty would do to me after…I could not do it,” he admitted. “I spent too many years wondering if I’d been taken from a family that wanted me, a family that loved me. I cannot imagine having to tell a child that the Nauts had well and truly stolen them from their family, for reasons beyond their control. I cannot imagine such a child ever deciding to remain with the Nauts, after making such a discovery…nor can I imagine hiding the truth from them until they made fleet commander.”

“I could not accept such a child at all,” Vasco concluded. “If I did, I would become everything I despise most about my people, a party to our secrecy and our worst tendencies. If that means that the Admiral believes I am no longer fit to be a Naut, well…I suppose that if being a Naut and being a good man are mutually exclusive, I would have to choose the latter.” He glanced at Kurt, his lips twisting wryly. “And not only because someone would try to separate my head from my shoulders if I did not.”

“Kurt,” de Sardet said, the slightest hint of reproof in her voice.

“I didn’t threaten him,” Kurt said, raising his hands in a gesture of innocent. “Truly, I did not. Much.”

“He didn’t have to,” said Vasco. “And not only because I already knew.” He looked de Sardet in the eyes. “You’ve been a good friend to me, de Sardet. You both have. I could hardly repay such friendship with betrayal. Whatever I have to say to my admiral or my crew to convince them…whether reminding them that you are a sea-born and that the child would be raised by a Naut, or that we owe you for your rescue of certain Naut citizens from Doctor Asili and for keeping Ruben from selling our secrets, or telling them that a certain cardinal has threatened to reveal those secrets, or that we owe it to the natives not to continue participating in stealing away their citizens against their will…or, yes, even declaring that this cabin is the Congregation’s embassy to the Nauts and its sovereign territory…I can assure you that, if you do give birth aboard the _Sea Horse_ , I will not allow your child to be taken as a Naut.”

De Sardet let out a breath. “Thank you, Vasco.” She came forward and hugged him, and Kurt could see the tears of relief in her eyes.

“There’s no need to fret,” Vasco told her, and Kurt thought he sounded a little ashamed of himself. “I promise you, I’ll have you back to Teer Fradee long before you’re due. Even with the delay, we should be there within four months of our departure.”

De Sardet had started to cry anyway, and Vasco awkwardly handed her off to Kurt, who held her. “It’s all right,” he told her. “Everything will be all right.”

“I know. I’m so glad. Thank you.” Still holding onto Kurt, she didn’t the guilty look Vasco gave her, but Kurt did.

“Thank you,” Vasco told him quietly, turning to go. Kurt nodded, and the captain left.

Turning his attention to de Sardet, Kurt did his best to distract her. “So, you’ve drawn up the papers, have you?” he asked. “Tell me, which of us did you make the legate? After all the talking I’ve just done, I think I may deserve a promotion.”

That drew a smile from her, and he knew then that things would get better.


	30. Chapter 30

Despite de Sardet’s fears, the rest of the voyage went smoothly: the wind picked up again two days after their conversation with Vasco, resulting in less than a fortnight’s delay. After that, they traveled swiftly, were never becalmed again, and the weather was lovely, despite Vasco’s concerns that traveling in autumn might mean a risk of hurricanes.

The rest of the voyage reminded de Sardet of her first journey to Teer Fradee, although that had occurred in winter. _We arrived in Teer Fradee just in time for spring, and left just as spring began._ It felt impossible to de Sardet that they had spent such a short time on the island. _A single year changed everything. We came to Teer Fradee for little more than a year, and by the time we return, I’ll have been gone for a little less than a year, yet Teer Fradee has become my home._

The thought still staggered her. _It has been less than two years since I said goodbye to my mother._ Then, she had believed herself the daughter of Alexandre and Jeanne de Sardet, born with a strange birthmark that some whispered was the result of her mother using fertility potions and that others whispered was a birth defect of some sort, but Alexandra herself had believed it to be an ordinary birthmark, if a unique one, like the port-wine stain that was splashed over half of Gabrielle de Betancourt’s face, or the vitiligo that had drained parts of Charles de Brossard’s hands and face of color. _I thought that the only reason my uncle wanted me to go to Teer Fradee was to keep an eye on Constantin._

Two years ago, her cousin had been alive, eager to make something of himself and the opportunity that his father had given him. Two years ago, Constantin had been her closest friend; she had known nothing of Siora, Vasco, Aphra, or Petrus, and Kurt had been only her faithful master-at-arms. _I had never fallen in love with someone who genuinely returned those feelings. I had never seriously thought of marriage, or of a family._

She realized now that perhaps she should have wondered why her mother had never sought to arrange a marriage for her; she had been twenty-three when her mother had first been diagnosed with the malichor, twenty-four when they sailed for New Serene, and twenty-five by the time that Kurt had admitted his feelings for her. _In the Congregation, most women are engaged by twenty, if not wed._ Men might marry later without exciting comment, and noblewomen of the highest rank sometimes held out for a glittering match, but neither her mother nor her uncle had ever suggested one. _My uncle knew my destiny lay on Teer Fradee, just as he knew that anyone who went to Teer Fradee with me would discover the truth._

Two years ago, she had been bound to a life in Serene, confined by the narrow horizons of her world, caring for a dying mother and doing her best to remain unnoticed by the rest of her uncle’s court; she had hated the intrigues and the plotting, and had believed that remaining a pleasant but unobtrusive presence was the best way to survive. _Survival was all I knew. I did not live, I merely existed, waiting to start a life of my own._ Had she not gone to Teer Fradee, she thought she might still have been waiting.

_On Teer Fradee, my life changed forever. I found a life of my own, friends of my own, a love of my own._ She had discovered the secret of her birth, and innumerable other secrets besides: the truth of the Congregation’s first settlement on the island; Saint Matheus’s visit to his fabled Eden; the crimes of Doctor Asili and the Bridge Alliance; the Coin Guard’s ghost camp and the plans of its perpetrators; the Nauts’ so-called sea-magic. _So many secrets, past and future. So many truths uncovered. In truth, I found myself._

Less than one year ago, she had left that island. It had taken four months to sail from Teer Fradee to Serene, and the return journey was slightly shorter. _We’ve spent more than twice as long aboard ship than we did in Serene._ It was less time than she had expected to stay, and she found herself glad of it: when she had returned to Serene, she had known who she was, and knew full well that she had outgrown her old life. _There was nothing left for me there._

_I know who I am now: neither fully Naut, nor native, nor noble, but something of all three. I am Alexandra, the daughter of Alexandre and Jeanne de Sardet, but also Aine, daughter of Arelwin and Declan of Vignamri as well, a child of the Congregation and of Teer Fradee. I am_ on ol menawi _and_ renaigse _both, and my children will be raised knowing both worlds._

_The time I spent on Teer Fradee seems a lifetime in and of itself._ By contrast, her life in Serene felt like a rapidly fading dream. _Perhaps one day Kurt and I will take our children, if the malichor is cured and Serene prospers._ She would like to see the city restored to glory, the way her mother had told her it was in her own childhood: with gleaming streets filled with healthy citizens; air that, if not entirely pure, had at least been free of the stink of death; and canals that had been clean enough that fish had lived in them. Until then, she had no desire to return, and she found herself feeling glad that every day they spent at sea was a day that took them farther from Gacane.

It was a bright, clear day when they landed. De Sardet had to admit that she breathed a sigh of relief as the sailor in the crow’s nest called out, “Teer Fradee ahoy!”

“You see?” Kurt told her. “Back in plenty of time.”

“About two months to spare, if I’m right,” she said, glad that her fears had proven groundless. _Vasco would have kept his word, but I'm glad it didn't come to that. Even if we could have resolved it peacefully, I don't want my child's existence to be another diplomatic problem to be solved._ "Perhaps a little more." 

“You don’t look it,” Vasco said as he approached, having overheard. “You look as if you swallowed a cannonball.”

“I don’t think a cannonball would move half as much.” As if on cue, de Sardet startled as she felt the baby move. “Kicking, turning, hiccups…”

“Hiccups?”

“The feeling is unmistakable.” De Sardet pressed a hand against her abdomen. “But right now, they’re kicking.”

“They?”

“Only one child, but obviously we can’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, and I don’t want to call them an _it_.”

“That’s fair enough,” Vasco said. One of his men called his name, and he glanced over to him, calling out, “A moment,” before looking back to de Sardet and Kurt. “I wanted you know we’ll be docking within the hour. I wanted to know if my men should load your trunks on the cart bound for the governor’s palace, or if they should be sent on to the legate’s house.”

“I’m not sure,” de Sardet admitted. “Let me speak with Lady de Morange when we disembark. I don’t know if my uncle will have sent news ahead of my appointment.”

“Fair enough. We have enough cargo that needs moving; I’ll tell them to work on the holds before the cabins.” That was all Vasco had time to say: he turned away, moving toward the sailor who’d called out to him, issuing orders as he went. “Pull in that sail! Steady now! You’re drifting too close to the _Dolphin_ , move to port! Port, I said!”

“The baby’s moving, you said?” Kurt asked. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.” De Sardet still remembered the first time she’d felt the baby move; that had been months ago, a light flutter from within her that had been entirely new, and she’d been delighted once she’d realized what it was. It was far more recent that the movements could be felt from without, and Kurt was still delighted each and every time she told him she felt it. _I'm afraid it's not as exciting for me._ The baby's movements had become so familiar to her that she often found herself wishing that they would stop kicking her while she was trying to sleep, but she reassured herself that the force of the movements was a sign of health.

Kurt rested a hand against her abdomen, and she moved it to where she’d felt the kicking. The feeling came again, and as a grin spread over his face, she couldn’t help but share his delight. _All my fears were so unfounded,_ she thought, remembering how worried she’d been in that small rented room in the Serene inn; Kurt was as excited a father as she could have hoped.

“We’re home now,” he said as the city of New Serene came into view. It was such a clear day that the city itself was little more than a blur on the horizon, but it still sent a thrill through her to see it.

“We are,” she agreed, and leaned into him. He put an arm around her, and they watched as the city rose before them. It seemed to her that the city had grown in their absence: there was new construction to both east and west, and it looked to her as if they had laid the foundations for a new city wall.

Petrus found them next. “My child,” he said, “while you have come home, my journey is not yet over. I will stay for a few nights in New Serene, but I must return to Theleme as soon as possible to present myself to Cornelia, and, if possible, to plan our actions against the Ordo Luminis here. The Ordo Luminis has been greatly weakened, largely because of your revelations regarding Saint Matheus, but the men and women who support it are fanatics, and I fear that the most fanatical of them will not stand down without a fight.”

“Do you anticipate violence?”

“Anticipate? No. But I would prefer to be prepared for all possible outcomes.” During most of the voyage, Petrus had refrained from wearing his cardinal’s robes, keeping to simpler black and white garments with a red sash or collar, but now he was clad entirely in the brilliant, bright red that denoted his new rank. Only his collar was white, with the two long, rectangular pieces of fabric that the men and women of Theleme wore in place of the voluminous cravat that was the fashion in the Congregation. “I shall remain in New Serene long enough to be formally received by you in your new position, and then I shall return to San Matheus to begin my real work.”

“You will be safe, I hope.”

“As safe as is possible for anyone in my position,” Petrus replied. “You need not fear for me; the Enlightened will watch over me.”

“You haven’t lived this long by leaving everything up to the Enlightened,” Kurt said.

“My own mentor once told me, ‘Trust in the Enlightened, but do not tax His patience,’” Petrus replied. “It is a motto I have endeavored to live by.”

“I hope that your work is easier than you anticipate,” said de Sardet.

“I could say the same to you. Do not overtax yourself.” Petrus glanced at de Sardet’s rounded abdomen; she had changed to wearing dresses, which were easier to alter and more forgiving than her doublets and laced trousers, but even the looseness of a dress couldn’t conceal the change in her figure. “While my new position will mean that Cornelia will need to appoint a new ambassador to the Congregation, I hope that she will allow me to serve as a special envoy to New Serene when it comes time to present Theleme’s congratulations.”

“I have meant to ask: if you are willing, upon my return to San Matheus, I would send you one of the sisters of the Order of Saint Cecelia. They are well-trained in midwifery, and one of them, Sister Theodosia, is a personal friend; I am sure she would visit you in New Serene, should I ask.”

“I will be glad to meet with her,” said de Sardet. “My aunt has promised that she will be with me when my time comes, but I am happy for any additional help. I only hope the room is not too crowded; Aphra has already told me she intends to ask the assistance of a colleague in Hikmet, and I know that Kurt has plans to interrogate half the doctors on the palace staff in New Serene.”

“You’ll be with me when I do,” Kurt told her. “I want you to be sure of them.”

“I would be glad to help,” Petrus said, frowning. “Remember, my child, it was one of the doctors on the palace staff who attempted to poison you, and who did poison Constantin. Ensure that they are trustworthy before you place yourself into their hands. You will be most vulnerable.”

“And you claim I have no tact,” said Aphra, approaching with a bowl in each hand.

“After I discovered that Constantin had been poisoned, he arranged for the questioning of every doctor who worked in the palace,” de Sardet replied. “Lady de Morange reviewed all of their files, and made inquiries into each and every one of them; she was very thorough. I believe she was driven by guilt.”

“Or determined to clear her name,” Petrus replied. “She must have realized that suspicion would fall upon her.” At the docks, Laurine de Morange had dismissed the doctors, handing Constantin the tainted cup with her own hands. “After all, you said that she encouraged him to drink.”

“She encouraged both of us,” de Sardet remembered. “She said that the doctors claimed we could catch our deaths if we did not.”

“As indeed you could,” said Aphra. She offered one bowl to de Sardet, the other to Kurt. “I realize this isn’t the most opportune time to give you this, but I thought you’d rather take it from me than from one of the healers on shore. I prepared it myself, with ingredients I purchased just before we left Serene.”

De Sardet took it; the mixture smelled just as unappetizing as it had both other times she’d had it, upon leaving Serene and upon returning. “Is it safe for the child?”

“Entirely,” Aphra reassured her. “I wouldn’t give it to you if it could prove harmful. Vasco tells me that Naut women drink it all the time; they often remain at sea until their time draws near, when they return to their island. He said that some of them will drink it monthly while they’re on the open ocean; it’s considered healthful for both child and mother alike.”

De Sardet drank, grimacing as she did. “I wish that something could be done to improve the taste. It is truly horrible!”

“You won’t hear any argument from me.” Kurt handed the empty bowl back to Aphra. “I hope never to have to drink that again for a long time.”

“Have you prepared enough for all of us?” asked Petrus.

“I suppose I should be touched that you trust me enough not to poison you. How far we’ve come.” When they’d first met, Petrus had bluntly told Aphra that, had the decision been his, he would have left her to die in the swamps of Magasvar; in turn, Aphra hadn’t concealed her distaste for the bishop.

Now, while de Sardet doubted they would ever admit it to one another, they were close friends, bound both by mutual affection for de Sardet and by the experiences they’d shared while following her, particularly what had transpired at Dorhadgenedu and afterwards.

“I would certainly trust you to prepare the fortifiers for me over a doctor I do not know,” Petrus replied. “After all, if you poisoned me, Alexandra would never forgive you. Besides, if I recall, your favored methods of assassination are rather less refined: a pistol to the forehead, perhaps a grenade.”

“I believe that plants should be used for healing. There are enough things in this world you can use to kill.” Aphra turned. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get that dose.”

As it turned out, Siora, Slan, and Eamon all refused their own doses. “But you took them in Serene,” de Sardet said, puzzled.

“In Serene, we were far from our land. Here, our bond with the land will protect us,” said Slan.

“We took your _renaigse_ medicines because it was your custom,” Eamon added. “We did not wish to offend.”

“It would not have given offense,” de Sardet replied. “But our own healers say that these fortifiers are necessary for our health, especially after a long sea voyage. Without them, you may become ill.”

“You should know that our bond protects us from many illnesses,” Slan said, gesturing to de Sardet’s _on ol menawi_ marking. “You have already seen how it protected you from the sickness that killed the dea—the _renaigse_ who was dear to you.” De Sardet was grateful that her aunt had refrained from calling Constantin the ‘death-bringer,’ which seemed to be the only way he was remembered among the natives: while she would have preferred they call him by his name, she was at least grateful that her aunt refrained from using the hated title to her face.

“If any of us take ill, we are all _doneigada_ ,” Eamon reassured her. “We know how to heal.”

“Ready to drop anchor!” a sailor called out.

“Drop anchor,” Vasco’s voice rang out across the deck. “Make ready to lower the gangplank, and prepare to begin unloading our cargo.”

“Yes, sir!”

“How soon will you be leaving?” Kurt asked Siora.

“Eamon and I must meet with the High King. We must tell him of what we have seen in your lands, and ask for others to help them. When we are there, Eamon will ask him for permission to leave his clan and join mine.”

“I believe Dunncas will not object. He is a good man and a good king.”

“He has known Eamon since he was a boy,” Siora supplied.

“I think he will be glad for us, _minundhanem_.” Eamon frowned. “It is Eseld I fear. I do not know if she will be so glad.”

Siora’s eyes narrowed. “Whether or not she is glad, she will accept it.”

“Don’t go looking for a fight, Siora,” de Sardet told her.

“But be willing to fight, if you have to,” Kurt added.

“We never had to fight to convince anyone to accept us here,” de Sardet said, looking at him with some surprise. “Even my uncle was easier to persuade than I thought.”

“That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t ready,” Kurt told her.

“He is right, _carants_ ,” said Siora.

“I am no warrior, but I will fight for Siora, if I must,” Eamon spoke up. In the months they had spent aboard ship, de Sardet had come to know him: far quieter and more reserved than Siora, calmer and less prone to flares of temper, but with equal depths of compassion and curiosity, and a strong desire for adventure counterbalanced by an equally strong sense of duty. “Losing her would be losing a part of myself; I would never be whole again. I wish only to remain at her side.”

“You will. As I will remain at yours,” Siora said fiercely. Turning back to de Sardet, she added, “If Eseld and my clan do not argue with me, then I will be glad, but if Eseld refuses me, or if she tells me she does not believe Eamon is my _minundhanem_ , we must be willing to prove her wrong.”

“You’ve certainly never had any difficulty disagreeing with her in the past,” de Sardet pointed out.

“We have disagreed, but we have never broken with one another.” Siora looked worried. “Eseld always said that she would defer to our mother’s wishes when it came time to choose someone to wed. After _Matir_ died, she said she would not wed at all, unless it was to help our clan. She said that she did not think that she could ever find anyone to equal our father.” The worry lifted as she looked to Eamon. “Until I met Eamon, I did not think I would, either.”

“I do not think that Eseld would break with you over this, Siora.”

“She is already upset that I have stayed away from our village for so long. I will have been _mal_ for over a year, but I have not been in Vignamri for more than a season in the last two years. I have already broken all custom by following a _renaigse_ , by fighting alongside _renaigse_ , and by leaving our land to try to help those same _renaigse_. She does not understand why you are my _carants_ , or why I have done the things I have. I do not think she was entirely happy when our village made us both _mal_.” 

“At least you aren’t marrying a _renaigse_ ,” Kurt said.

“To her, a _doneigad_ of a different clan may not be so different,” Siora replied. “Especially one who thinks and feels as I do.”

“If you did not share each other’s minds, you would hardly be _minundhanem_ ,” de Sardet replied. “Is it so surprising that you should fall in love with someone who also desired to help heal a poisoned land, or cure people who are suffering terribly, even if those people are _renaigse_?”

“You are truly a weaver of words, _on ol menawi_ ,” said Eamon. “I wish that I shared that skill. If I could stand before Eseld and speak as you do, I would be able to make her understand. I wish you could come with us and speak!”

“I think that, to Eseld, I may still be more _renaigse_ than _on ol menawi_ ,” de Sardet replied. “I doubt my words would convince her.”

“She is right, my _minundhanem_ ,” Siora told him. “We must speak for ourselves.” She looked to de Sardet. “Send word to Vedrhais when your child is born. No matter what happens, I will visit you then, _carants_.”

Before she could say anything more, Vasco approached. “You can disembark whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ve enjoyed sailing with you again, Vasco,” said de Sardet.

"It's kind of you to say," he said, and she could tell he was still thinking of those weeks of calm in the middle of the journey. "I'm glad that we've arrived safely, and with plenty of time."

"As you promised we would. I'm sorry for doubting you."

"No," he stopped her. "I'm sorry for giving you reason to doubt. I still hope you'll believe me when I say it wouldn't have made any difference."

“I do," she said, and meant it. "Thank you for bringing us home.”

“You’re welcome to voyage with me any time you wish." 

“I think any future voyages will be closer to home,” de Sardet said. “Around the island, perhaps.”

“Or to our island, one day,” Vasco suggested. “If you’d ever like to see it, the invitation is always open.”

“Thank you.” De Sardet looked to the gangplank. “But for now, I think I’ll be remaining on Teer Fradee.”

Petrus and Aphra were already waiting for them; Aphra practically bounded from the ship. “How I loathe sea travel,” she said as she set foot on solid ground. Petrus descended at a more dignified pace, obviously enjoying the attention that his cardinal’s robes brought. 

Seeing de Sardet eyeing the gangplank, Kurt offered her his arm. “I don’t want to have to fish you out of the harbor,” he said.

She took it gratefully, letting him steady her as she walked onto shore. The pregnancy had changed her center of balance, and she felt as if her body had become entirely unwieldy, especially on a gangplank that was barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Even after they reached solid land, she didn’t let go: the transition from months aboard ship to unmoving ground was enough to make her glad of having his arm to lean on.

Lady de Morange was waiting for them. “Your Highnesses,” she said formally, dipping a perfect curtsey. “Your Eminence,” she added to Petrus. “Lady Aphra, Commodore Vasco, Sir de Courcillon.” Her failure to recognize Siora and Eamon bothered de Sardet until she realized that neither of them had disembarked the ship yet, allowing de Sardet’s former tutor to precede them. “Your return is somewhat sooner than I had anticipated.” Her gaze went to de Sardet’s midsection. “Though perhaps I understand why. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I wanted to be sure to be home well before my time.”

“That’s certainly understandable.” Lady de Morange paused. “The last ship from Serene arrived not quite two months ago. They brought news of the Princess d’Orsay’s passing. My condolences to you, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, but we never were close. My uncle intends to marry again; by now, he is likely wed. He announced his engagement to Isabelle de Renaud the day before we left Serene.”

“Isabelle de Renaud?” Lady de Morange was a skilled diplomat, but unable to conceal her surprise.

“Apparently, he intended that she should marry Constantin upon his return to Serene. He had been negotiating the marriage with the de Renauds for months. Constantin’s death made that match impossible, but now that he finds himself without an heir, he has offered himself in his place.”

“Then you have no intention of returning to Serene?” There were a half a dozen questions in Lady de Morange’s words.

“No. My uncle has come to agree that I will be of greater service to him here.” De Sardet paused. “He has appointed me governor.”

She had been expecting disappointment, and was surprised to see how widely Lady de Morange’s smile was. “I thought he might. I hoped you would accept.”

“You hoped? Wouldn’t you have wanted to be named governor?” Aphra interrupted. “After all, you did hold the post before Constantin, just as you’ve held it since his death.”

“I had neither any hopes nor any expectations of it,” de Morange replied. “The Prince d’Orsay would hardly wish to allow House de Morange to establish a base of power so far from his watchful eye. Even if he had not chosen to appoint the Princess de Sardet, he would have chosen another from among the princes of the Congregation.” 

“He has left the choice of legate up to me,” said de Sardet. “While I was visiting the city, I had the occasion to meet your niece, Lady Margot de Morange. I seem to remember your saying that she might be inclined to take a post far from her family?”

“I must confess I am surprised you did not ask her while you were still in Serene.”

“Our departure was somewhat hasty,” Kurt spoke up.

“Circumstances were such that I had no choice but to tell my uncle of our marriage,” de Sardet said, gesturing vaguely to her midsection. “He was…accepting, at least privately, but for reasons of state he is choosing to act more displeased in public. I did not object, as it facilitated our departure, but it also meant that I had no time to arrange my staff after I had accepted the appointment as governor.”

“Plans within plans, as always,” de Morange sighed. “You can tell me all about them later, I'm sure. As for your choice of legate, Margot may well accept you, but I do not believe your uncle would be pleased. He wishes to diminish the influence of House de Morange on this island; my brother is already sending word from the continent of the rumors he has spread regarding my mismanagement and of false scandals surrounding our house, all undoubtedly to remind the other noble houses that this island is better off in the hands of House d'Orsay."

"I am sorry to hear it," de Sardet began, surprised, but Lady de Morange waved a hand airily.

"It is no more than one would expect from the Prince d'Orsay, especially as he has long resented giving me the appointment here. But you will hardly earn his approval should you write to him appointing my niece to your former position. Might I suggest choosing a different legate, but inviting her to Teer Fradee to serve on that legate’s staff? You have had a number of companions in your time as legate; surely, the new legate will welcome an attaché.”

De Sardet nodded. “I would be glad to issue the invitation. I would also like to know if you have any suggestions for the new legate. I hope my absence has not been too sorely felt.”

“Fortunately not. Things have largely been quiet…at least in New Serene and among the natives. In Hikmet, Governor Burhan has been establishing an ethics committee to oversee the pursuit of the sciences, and in San Matheus, the Mother Cardinal has been dealing with the dissolution of the Ordo Luminis. There have been rumors that she sent to the mainland requesting additional assistance, and other rumors stating that there has been some political upheavals among the Conclave of Cardinals in Theleme, but there has been nothing concrete as of late.”

“Theleme has indeed undergone a great deal of change in the past year,” Cardinal Petrus spoke up. “The revelations regarding Saint Matheus that Governor de Sardet uncovered may well revolutionize our entire society. The Ordo Luminis’s power is greatly diminished, and I have hopes that it will be disbanded entirely. In its place, I have been appointed a cardinal and founding member of the Ordo Eruditio, to attempt to replace conversion with conversation, so that we might teach the natives our ways even as we learn from them.”

“Then I find congratulations are in order to you as well, Your Eminence…although I do fear you’ll have you work cut out for you,” Lady de Morange replied.

“Undoubtedly,” Petrus replied. “I will depart for San Matheus shortly. Until then, if I may trespass upon your hospitality…”

“Most certainly.” Lady de Morange turned to de Sardet. “In truth, I anticipated your appointment as governor. The governor’s rooms have been empty for months. They will need to be aired out, and I will have to arrange for your things to be brought to the governor’s mansion from the legate’s residence, but that will be accomplished within the week. In the meantime, I hope you’ll have no objection to your usual housing.”

“Certainly not.”

“I must confess my surprise that you are returning with some of the native delegation. Was their mission a success?”

“Not yet,” said de Sardet as she glanced behind her: Siora was making her way down the gangplank, accompanied by Eamon and Slan. “Siora is mal of her clan, and could not be away from them, and when my aunt discovered I was with child, she insisted on returning to Teer Fradee with me. Eamon is Siora’s _min_ —her fiancé,” she amended.

“ _Minundhanem_ , I believe is the native word,” de Morange said with a smile. “Although it does not imply an engagement, I suppose, merely a connection between two lovers. It translates to ‘one who shares my mind,’ does it not?”

“It does indeed. I forget how much you have studied of the native culture.”

“Not nearly as much as you, I’m afraid. You’ve traveled much more extensively on the island, and befriended many. But there is no sense in waiting here on the docks, not when our escort has arrived.” Lady de Morange gestured to several members of the Coin Guard. “While I am afraid that your arrival was not anticipated, I will certainly see that we have a splendid supper ready for you.”

As they walked, Lady de Morange eagerly told them of the changes that had taken place in New Serene: all told, not much, but an expansion of the city and its walls. More than eight months of absence had not changed the city beyond recognition; as de Sardet walked the familiar streets, she felt a sense of comfort that she hadn’t had during all her time away.

“I’ll leave you here,” said de Morange as they reached the steps of the governor’s palace. “You must tell me everything that’s happened in Serene. I’ve been away for so long that I’m afraid I’m entirely ignorant of the current intrigues, save the few my brother has chosen to relate...and from what I understand, he has largely found himself out of favor at Court.”

“I will, as long as you tell me more of New Serene,” de Sardet promised.

The legate’s house was exactly as they’d left it. De Sardet breathed a sigh of relief as she walked in the door, turning to Kurt: while she had been deep in conversation with Laurine de Morange, he had been speaking to the lieutenant of the Coin Guard who’d led the guards.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he told her. “I don’t know if I should be insulted or relieved that they’ve managed so well without me.” 

“You should be proud,” she told him. “You chose those men, after all. You helped train them.” After the Coin Guard’s coup attempt, Kurt had reviewed the lists of all the men assigned to the palace, and she knew that in the days after Constantin’s death, he’d done so again. “I’m glad that Lady de Morange isn’t upset about my appointment.”

“I’m glad we’re well away from that hornet’s nest, and safely on dry land. It’s good to be home.”

“It is,” she agreed.


	31. Epilogue

Kurt bounded up the steps that led to the governor’s private chambers, taking them two at a time. “Your Highness,” a servant tried, but he was already past him, racing down the hallway at the top of the stairs and pushing open the doors that led into the governor’s suite.

The bedroom was only a room away, but his way was barred by an apologetic-looking servant. “Your Highness.”

“Let me through. The messenger told me—”

“The Princess de Sardet is in labor, yes.”

“Then let me through! I should be with her.” Kurt had been meeting with Sieglinde and several other senior members of the Coin Guard, discussing his plans to form a separate palace guard that wouldn’t be under the Guard’s direct command; some of his peers had objected, but Sieglinde had understood his concerns and seen the sense in it.

Intimidated by the soldiers standing watch outside the meeting-room, the messenger had prevaricated, waiting until the meeting was nearly over before delivering his message. Kurt had cursed the man thoroughly for the delay before racing through the streets of New Serene, drawing stares from the town’s citizens and occasionally pushing his way past one who stepped in his path.

“Your Highness,” Lady de Morange said, emerging from behind a different set of doors to intervene; the servant looked relieved and slipped away. “It is customary in Serene for a father to wait outside the chamber until after the infant has been safely delivered. The process of childbirth can be rather…messy, and—”

“I’m a soldier. It isn’t as if I’m some blue-blooded lord who’d faint at the sight of blood.”

“Her aunt is already with her, as are several healers. I believe that Cardinal Petrus arranged for one of his acquaintances, a sister of a healing order, to attend, and there’s a famous doctor from Hikmet, along with several members of the palace’s medical staff—”

“I know, I’ve spoken with them all. I want to be with her. How long has it been?”

“Two hours since her waters broke, perhaps."

"Two hours?" He let out another curse, directed at the messenger who hadn't done his duty.

"Yes, but these things take time. It may be hours before—”

The sudden sound of a rising cry came through the doors, muffled but clearly audible. “Damn it, I’m not waiting.”

“All those who are close to the princess and have come to wish her well are waiting in the drawing room. If you’d come with me, I can take you to them – Your Highness! Your Highness! My lord! Major!” As Lady de Morange protested, he moved past her, pushed his way past the lone servant who was blocking the door, and went into the bedroom.

There were so many people crowded around the bed that at first Kurt could hardly see his wife, but as he moved closer to the bed, he saw that she was propped up in the middle, a blanket draped over her spread legs for modesty, her dressing gown pushed up around her waist. Her hair was loose, plastered to her forehead with sweat, and her eyes were closed, her head back as she cried out.

Her aunt held her hand. “It is time,” she said. “Push!”

De Sardet’s eyes opened. “Kurt,” she said.

The attention of the various doctors had been so focused on de Sardet that none of them had noticed his entrance. “The Prince de Sardet will be admitted once the child arrives,” the doctor from Hikmet told her.

“My sweet Excellency,” Kurt said, moving to the opposite side of the bed from Slan. “I’m here.”

The entirety of the medical staff looked scandalized. “Your Highness, you should not be here,” one of the doctors from the palace staff informed him. “It is not customary—”

“Fuck custom. I’m not leaving her.” Kurt took her hand, and she gripped it tightly. “Not unless you want me to go.”

“No. Please don’t leave. I—” She squeezed his hand as another contraction came. “I want you here. I’m so glad you made it. Everything has happened so quickly, I was so worried—”

“Not so very quickly,” the doctor from Hikmet corrected her. “The lower back pain you said you were feeling this morning was likely the early stages of labor. If that is the case, this has been going on for hours; this is merely the last stage.”

“Your Highness,” the Congregation doctor tried again, placing a hand on Kurt’s arm, “I must insist—” His voice died away as he saw the look in Kurt’s eyes.

“I insist,” Slan spoke up. “My niece has said she wishes him to stay. He stays. It is the mother’s wishes that come first in our village, always.” She had a damp rag, which she used to wipe de Sardet’s forehead. “If your mother was alive, she would be here.”

De Sardet’s only reply was another gasp, and another contraction. “Push,” the holy woman from San Matheus urged.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I didn’t know. That idiot of a messenger didn’t want to interrupt a meeting with Sieglinde. I came as soon as I could.” He glanced to Slan. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Slan said, although he wondered whether she would have said anything if it wasn’t. “This is normal. Even easy, for a first child.”

“It won’t be long now,” one of the physicians said. She was right: a few moments later, she followed with the announcement, “The head is crowning, I can see it.”

“Push,” Slan urged her niece, and de Sardet gripped Kurt’s hand so tightly that he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d broken a finger. “Just once more. Push!”

De Sardet cried out, and a moment later, an infant’s cries replaced hers. “A girl,” the sister from San Matheus declared. “Your Highnesses, it’s a girl.”

“Healthy, from the look of her,” declared the Congregation doctor.

“She certainly has strong lungs,” said Kurt, then looked to de Sardet, grinning from ear to ear; despite her exhaustion, she laughed, returning his smile.

“I’m a father,” he said, and then, to de Sardet, “Our daughter.”

“Here,” said the holy sister from San Matheus, once the healers had cut the cord, cleaned the infant, and bundled her into a fresh blanket. “Your daughter, Your Highness. Hold her while we finish our work.”

“You must prepare to deliver the afterbirth,” Slan told her niece. “You will need to push again. Not for long, but it must be done.”

De Sardet nodded. “Do you want to hold my hand?” Kurt asked her, still holding their daughter close.

“Hold her,” she told him, and smiled again. “I just want to look at you both. You and our daughter.”

_Our daughter. I’m a father._

_Two years ago, if anyone had asked me if I thought I’d be a father, I’d have told them it was impossible._ In fact, Alexandra de Sardet had asked him if he’d ever considered it, and he’d told her that life as a soldier’s child was no way to grow up. _I never imagined that she could want me to have a family with her, or that I’d be in any position to raise a child of my own, the way they ought to be._ Not abandoned by uncaring parents, brought up by a prostitute, and stripped of even that meager affection as soon as they were old enough to hold a sword, but cherished and loved, treated as a child ought to be, protected from harm.

Kurt looked at the infant, marveling at how tiny she was, but how perfectly formed: the brown swirl of hair atop her head, the same shade as his own; the blue eyes that all babies had; the tiny nose and mouth; the perfect fingernails; the red, wrinkled face with its fat cheeks. “She’s beautiful,” he said.

“There,” the healer from Hikmet announced a little later. “The afterbirth has been delivered intact; there should be no fear of infection or fever. I’ll prepare a posset for your health, Your Highness, but this was remarkably easy for a first delivery. No tearing, no stitches required, no excessive bleeding. We’ll remove the soiled padding from the bed and leave you to rest.” He gave Kurt a disapproving look. “Ordinarily, this is where we would allow the father to enter and spend a few minutes with you privately, but as he is already here…”

“As he is already here, you can leave us,” de Sardet said, and despite her exhaustion, she sounded every inch the imperious governor issuing orders.

The healers obeyed; they filed out one by one. Slan was the last to go. “I will return,” she promised, and looked to Kurt. “Do not tire her. She will need rest.” But she gave them both a smile before she left, closing the doors behind her.

“Here,” Kurt said to his wife, handing her their child. Alexandra de Sardet cradled the baby gently, unbuttoning the top of her dressing gown, and put the infant to her breast.

“She’s beautiful.”

“You’re both beautiful,” he told her.

“This is the least-beautiful I’ve felt in my life. That’s why the princes of Serene never enter a birthing room, you know; if some of them saw what went on here, they’d never visit their wife’s bed again.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I know you had your aunt, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“I know. That’s why I asked for you. I knew that they’d try to keep you out, but I knew you’d come.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he said again. “I wish—”

“You made it. That’s all that matters.” She brushed the top of their daughter’s head, touching the swirl of hair. “She has your hair.”

“And your nose, I think.”

“I don’t know how you can tell. She’s so small.” De Sardet shifted. “Do you think the name we chose still suits her?”

“I think it’s perfect.” They had discussed names several times over the voyage home; while Kurt had suggested the name of one or both of her mothers, Alexandra de Sardet hadn’t wanted to name the child after any of the dead.

“I don’t want them to feel as if they have to live up to anyone,” she’d said. “This is a new future, our future, and I want them to have a new name, one that is all their own." 

They had decided on a first name suitable for a lady of the Congregation, and de Sardet hadn’t objected when Kurt had suggested giving their daughter a native middle name that would honor her. “Eleanor Aine,” she said: the first name one that they both thought sounded well, and the second the name that Arelwin had wished to give her own daughter.

“Eleanor,” Kurt agreed.

De Sardet handed her over. “Why don’t you go show her to our friends?” Over the past two weeks, all their friends had arrived, drifting in from around Teer Fradee: Cardinal Petrus had come from San Matheus, Siora from Vedrhais, Aphra from Vigyigidaw. Vasco had just returned from a short sail to Hikmet. She leaned back. “I’d like to sleep. Tell them that I’ll see them in the morning.”

“I will,” he promised. Again, he faced protests from the healers when he told them he was going to take the infant from the room; in the end, Slan accompanied him to the drawing room, watching him as if she expected him to drop the child at any time.

As he entered the drawing room, he was glad to see that only their friends had been allowed to wait: there were no concerned courtiers, no hangers-on of the Court that he had come to despise, not even the regular envoys from Hikmet and San Matheus, only Petrus, Aphra, Siora, and Vasco.

Vasco had been leaning with his back against the wall, arms folded across his chest; Siora was sprawled on one of the couches, looking anxious; Petrus had been pacing, looking as if he might wear a rut in the floor, and it sounded as if Aphra was in the middle of chiding him for his anxiety. “—know these things take time,” she said. “It takes some women three days to deliver their first.”

“Kurt is with her,” Siora offered. “I heard him enter.”

Vasco was the first to see him, grinning. “Here he is now,” he said. “It seems that was rather quicker than you were anticipating, Aphra.”

“It’s a girl,” Kurt said, holding her close. “Eleanor Aine, we’re calling her.”

“Shouldn’t a noblewoman have half a dozen different names?”

“Customarily, the child’s additional names would be chosen by their godparents, and given at a christening,” said Petrus. “Not all those in the Congregation follow the religion of the Enlightened, but even among those who do not, their customs do bear some resemblance to ours. They baptize with water rather than light, after an older ritual that originated with the gods they possessed before Saint Matheus's revelations, and those who do so simply invoke the Divine rather than the Enlightened, but the rituals are similar enough in both form and substance." 

Kurt, who had only ever had one name, could only shrug. “That’ll be up to Alexandra.”

“Is she well?” Siora asked, and Kurt felt guilty for not having mentioned it sooner.

“She’s fine. The birth was easy, they said. She’s resting now; she said she’ll see all of you in the morning.”

“I am glad.” Siora looked at the infant. “She is beautiful, Kurt.”

“The most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen,” he agreed. “She looks like her mother, don’t you think?”

Aphra laughed. “All babies look alike. She’s red and wrinkled and scrunched.”

“She is absolutely beautiful,” Petrus told him. “All parents feel that way, I’m told, but I don’t think that any of us could begrudge you your pride.” 

“She has your hair,” Vasco pointed out.

“Do you think you’ll want one of your own soon?” Aphra asked Siora.

“Yes,” Siora admitted. Her betrothal had gone more smoothly than expected: Dunncas had lent them his support and approval, and while Eseld had not been entirely happy that her sister had chosen to defy tradition and wed a _doneigad_ of a different clan, she had been happier for her twin than Siora had expected. “Eamon and I will wed as soon as I return to my village, and I hope we will begin a family of our own soon after.”

_From what Siora said, poor Eamon had to convince Eseld that he was worthy of her sister’s hand,_ Kurt thought, remembering the story Siora had told when she’d first returned to New Serene. The young _doneigad_ was shy, hardly a fierce warrior like Eseld, but he was no coward: he had stood up and expressed his desire to wed in front of both Eseld and the clan of the red spears, challenging any who disagreed to come forward, and Eseld had ended in approving.

“I hope to witness your wedding,” said Aphra.

“As a friend, I hope, and not as more material for your book,” said Vasco.

“As both, I’d hope, but I would attend as a friend even if I could not write of it.”

“I know that Alexandra and I would like to be there, but I don’t know if we’ll want to travel so soon. She won’t want to leave the baby.”

“She won’t want to? You won’t, either,” said Aphra.

“That’s true enough.”

Aphra shook her head. “I can’t imagine wanting one. I’ve no desire for children, and no time. Do you realize you’re not likely to get a good night’s rest for the next year?”

“With servants to help?” Vasco asked, then backed down as he saw the look Kurt gave him. “Though I suppose for them to help, they’d have to let them.”

Petrus peered at the infant. “My ambitions precluded children,” he admitted. “It is one of the great regrets of my life. My sincerest congratulations to you both.”

“What of you, Vasco?” Aphra asked. “Do you want children?”

“That is…a complicated question,” Vasco said. “Among the Nauts, children are not raised by individual families.”

“Even sea-born?”

“Yes. The mother of a sea-born infant usually stays with their child until they’re weaned, and some Naut families will keep their children with them for longer, but most Naut children spend their time being raised together on our island, learning the rudiments of our craft. By the time they’re twelve, they’re sent to their first ship. The sea-born usually know who their families are, especially if they have any high-ranking relatives, but it’s considered bad form for a captain to pull rank to have their own son or daughter assigned to their command.”

“I’m assuming it does happen,” Petrus said.

“More frequently than most Nauts would like to admit,” Vasco agreed. “But by tradition, all Naut children are raised by the whole ship, not by their parents. I never knew what it was to have a mother or a father, and if I were to have any children of my own, I’d either have to give them up or pull rank to keep them with me, and even then I couldn’t acknowledge them the way I’d like. But I’ll be happy to help raise any children who come aboard.” There was a wistful look on his face as he said it, and Kurt could tell he wasn’t entirely happy with the way the Nauts did things.

“Do you think that will ever change?” Kurt asked him.

“The Nauts have talked about becoming less secretive, and Admiral Cabral has spoken of making some changes…but I don’t know that they’d come to pass,” Vasco admitted. “Besides, I doubt I’ll have the chance to have children of my own.”

“Are things with Captain Rodrigo that serious?” There was a moment of silence, and Kurt wondered if he’d offended the sailor.

But Vasco seemed more thoughtful than offended when he replied. “I think so. I’ve not asked him if he feels the same way, but perhaps I ought.”

“You should,” Siora told him. “If he is truly your _minundhanem_ , you should tell him. Do not wait.”

“ _Minundhanem_ ,” Aphra said, shaking her head. “I’d rather keep my own mind to myself, thank you.”

Eleanor began to squall, and Kurt looked down at her. “I should take her back to her mother.”

“Give her to me,” said Slan. “I will take her.” Kurt was reluctant to let go, but he handed her over.

“So it begins,” said Aphra. “You’ve had your first, now Siora and Eamon will wed and have theirs, and then Vasco will find himself with a ship full of children.”

“You truly don’t want any of your own?” Vasco asked her.

“Never. My books will be my children. Writing is much safer than childbed, and much less messy.”

“If that’s how you feel,” Kurt told her. “But I never thought I’d be here, and, well…” He spread his hands. “Never say never.”

“ _Never_ ,” Aphra replied emphatically, with a smile.


End file.
